#like drawing that well with your regular hand would be hard but he did that with his left??? wtf

[httpiastri]

dams drawing challenge……

at least they could laugh about it 😭

#this lineup 💘💘💘 #sweethearts #love them so much #their dynamics will work very well i think #i mean we knew they were friends before too but this will be very cute #idk what happened to jms spa drawing but #his f2 car? hello?? #like drawing that well with your regular hand would be hard but he did that with his left??? wtf #im crying #@​lacii you probs could draw that well with your weak hand and that scares me #in a good way #f2 #jak crawford #juan manuel correa #formula 2 #formula two #dams racing

[cuubism]

i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is

cw injury, referenced abusive relationships

--

Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.

Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.

But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.

"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."

Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.

"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."

Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.

"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.

"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.

Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"

Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.

He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"

Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.

"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.

"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."

He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.

Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.

(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)

"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"

Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"

"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."

Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.

"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."

Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.

Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.

"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.

Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.

Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."

"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.

"As you insist," Dream says.

Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.

"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."

Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."

"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.

"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."

Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.

"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."

Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.

"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."

He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.

Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."

Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.

#i really am writing the most random indulgent shit this week XD #you know this was a missed opportunity to do 'forbidden romance between a physical therapist and a ballerina' like that ridiculous romance #novel that was going around XD #anyway don't take physical therapy advice from this #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #cw abuse #long post #perhaps i'll write more after my next appointment XD #physical therapy fic

[thebucketpail]

When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt. 2

Pt. 1 Ao3

I couldn't let the brain rot die

-----

Breath Danny, this is all fine. This was however not fine. Danny stared, mouth agape, food untouched, as The RED godamned HOOD sat across from him tearing into a burger and fries. The man had taken off his helmet and almost sent Danny into a panic before seeing he had another mask underneath. Which, honestly, shouldn’t be surprising, from what Tucker’s told him these bats are hella secretive and have an insane amount of contingencies. He thought back to the time when Tucker had tried installing similar plans in case of emergency, which mostly fell through after like two attacks. Only a few plans survived and receive semi-regular upkeep.

“Dude you gonna eat that or what?” Danny was pulled from their thoughts by the vigilante sitting across from them. Right, that. As a response they lifted a couple fries to his mouth and Ancients these are good. Hood let out a chuckle at whatever face Danny had pulled, before his voice turned a bit more serious.

“So how’d you come across the Joker? Much less put a crater in his gut?” Ah, so this was an interrogation, Danny can do an interrogation. He swallowed a few more fries before responding.

“Um, well, I was just walking back to my dorm, and the guy jumped out of an alley and grabbed me. He started talking about the Waynes and… some other stuff. So I panicked and then he was dead.” Danny trailed off, stuffing the burger in his mouth to avoid talking more. And if it weren’t for his nerves this burger would have tasted amazing, but at this moment it was just a burger.

Hood nodded, “And the smoking crater? Are you a meta or something?” And there was the question Danny constantly thinks about because yes, technically he would be considered a meta, after all his dad and his sister both have the gene so it would be so easy to explain away his powers like that. But it felt so much like a lie. Like he was denying the fact of his true nature. But Danny also really didn’t feel like explaining the complexities of ghosts at whatever Ancients forsaken time it is, to the Red Hood, over a burger and shakes. So he nodded, gesturing flippantly with his hand in a vague either or motion.

Hood looked weary but took the answer nonetheless. “I took care of the body and called some friends. Do you mind if I tell them who did it or would you like to keep it under wraps?” He said, leaning back in the booth.

“Umm,” Danny ducked his head and dropped his hand to his lap, “I’d rather not have my name or face publicized, if that's alright.” Hood Hmm’d in agreement before tilting his head to one side, A smile smile tug at the corner of his lips which, if Danny wasn’t under an intense amount of stress right now, would actually be kind of cute.

“Speaking of,” Hood said, his tone shifting to something Danny couldn’t detect, “I don’t believe I got your name.” and that’s a lie, Danny had told him in the alley way. But then, Hood had been in a bit of shock so maybe he forgot?

“It’s Danny,” Danny said again, a bit more sure this time, “Danny Fenton.” He paused for a moment before tacking on “ He/ they” and holding out his hand for Hood to shake.

That smile on the vigilantes face grew more as he took Danny’s hand, “Hood, he/him. Pleasure to make your acquaintance” was that a wink? It was hard to tell with the domino mask, but did RED HOOD just fucking wink at them.

“So how old are you Danny? You said you were heading back to your dorm, are you a student?”

It took a few moments for their brain to catch up before Danny replied, “Yeah, I just turned 20, I’m starting my first semester at Gotham U in a couple days. I’ve uhh,” Danny ducked his head again, reaching to rub at the back of his neck, “I’ve only actually been in Gotham for like three days.” he muttered sheepishly. Looking back up at Hood through his bangs.

“You’ve only been in Gotham for for three days,” hood whispered to himself, his brows drawing together in confusion, “And you killed the Fucking Joker???” He half shouted, incredulously.

Danny’s Head shot around scanning the dingy burger joint, no one seemed to have noticed. Hood looked apologetic, then a war of emotions fluttered across his face before that smile, that Danny had now decided is definitely cute (Cause that’s not a lot to unpack), crept its way back onto the man’s face.

“So what do you study?” Hood asked, resting his chin on his hand and tilting his head just slightly.

Danny fought the blush threatening to creep up their face because no, no this serial killer crime boss is not cute you absolute idiot. And instead they launched into an explanation of how theyŕe majoring in Aerospace engineering and Astronomy, because this is his obsession and he could talk about his obsession all day if he could.

----------

Jason stared at the man before him, excitedly explaining a bunch of star stuff that, to be honest, he didn’t really understand. But this man was so goddamn cute. Danny apparently is the kind of person that talks with their hands when they get excited, because the wild gestures they were making only managed to captivate Jason more.

The two talked for almost another hour before Jason had to drop them off at their dorm because, “You almost got murdered once tonight and you got lucky, I’m going to escort you home whether you like it or not.” before returning to his patrol route.

He made a mental note while he was beating up a potential mugger, to look into this Danny Fenton, to maybe meet in civvies, because there is no way Jason is going to lose this guy.

Pt. 3

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc #red hood #jason todd #danny fenton #dead on main #bucket writes things #danny is so confused #jason is practically in love #is danny technically a meta? probably? but uhh we dont mess with that

[weixuldo]

No Attachments pt 2

Jedi! Anakin x F/Dancer!Reader

a/n: so idk y this story appealed so much to me, but I just wanted to write pining casue I haven't done that in a while... I hope you all enjoy the second part of this mini series :)

Slight NSFW

Anakin’s growing interest doesn’t go unnoticed

Warnings: cursing, anakin is a little bit of a perv, exhibitionism, voyurism, horny thoughts, cursing, fantasies, masturbation, cannon typical violence, mentions of sexual harassment

________________________

The colorful lights of the club shone perfectly against your skin as you enchanted the audience- you made sure to dress up extra nice tonight though because your little jedi was in attendance. 

The duo had been coming in every few days for the past couple of weeks to monitor the areas, get new information, and to search for any dodgy characters.

Once you realized they would only be here on certain days, you decided to switch up your outfit cycle and routines; you said you wanted the younger of the two and you knew just how to get him. 

Today was a normal day- the pair walked in and greeted your manager and the other employees; of course the younger, whom you learned was named “Anakin”, came up to greet you with a nervous smile.

Even after meeting several times, he just couldn’t seem to get a hold of himself when you were in his vicinity. 

You noticed his lingering eyes as you weaved your way through the crowds each night, his sweaty palm when he shook your hand after a check-in (he noticed his perspiration and began offering his gloved hand instead).

The way he’d bashfully look away once you locked eyes with him- he was totally smitten. 

The times he chose to “check-in” also didn't go unnoticed; he always pulled you aside right after a performance or right after you switched outfits (he really just wanted an excuse to gaze upon you for just a moment longer). 

Little did you know that you were always on his mind- when he left the entertainment district and went back to the temple, no matter how hard he tried, you just simply would not leave his thoughts. Your perfect body haunted him as he would try to resist his natural urges. 

He was better than this and he knew it! So why couldn't he stop himself from imagining you, spread out on his bed at the temple in one of your little outfits, beckoning him with hooded eyes. 

“Anakin” you would call in a sultry tone, drawing him in. 

He’d ravage your body with hungry kisses and pull at the perfectly fit clothing stuck to your body.

How many nights had he stayed awake with the company of his own hand, just imagining you around him?

He’d watched every one of your shows- he had seen your hips, how flexible you were, how calculated you were… he needed you to himself.

__________________________

You finished your main dance for the night and had a few private sessions lined up for some very eager patrons. You didn’t mind doing the private dances, it brought in good money- but they could be… uncomfortable sometimes. 

The lace of your newest lingerie set brushed your thighs as you pulled it up; the first patron was a regular whom you really did not like- he was rude, touchy, and would often try to convince you to do things above your pay-grade…lovely way to start the night. 

The dim hallway was lined with what looked like velvet and rhinestones, an obvious reminder of what you were here to do. 

At the end of the hall were your assigned private booths, your patron was already waiting in there- you could feel the sleazy aura from behind the door. With a sigh you fixed a fake smile onto your face and strided for the door. 

You prepared to knock but you felt a demanding presence behind you

Anakin. 

Your perfectly painted lips curled into a smile and you gently nibbled on your lower lip before turning around. He stood a few feet from you, back straitened, arms crossed, and legs holding a domineering stance. 

“Well look who it is, what can I do you for? Oops! I mean do for you” you teased with a confident smirk. 

The jedi’s scarred eye twitched before he unfurled his arms and strode towards you, “need to do a check-in” he said bluntly before looking down at the floor (so cute). 

“I’ve got a dance I gotta do first- can it wait for a minu-”

“No, tell that pervert he can get another dancer to straddle his lap- you’re occupied” he stated; his demanding tone sent shivers up your spine. 

Funny he thought the people who pay to see you were creeps when he does the same things for free… just the other day you heard him stroking himself in the employee refresher; the fast plaps of his dick sliding through his strong hands, his concealed groans, and breathy pants… you heard it all- and you knew exactly why he felt the need to do that while he was on shift. Quite hypocritical of him. 

“Pervert, huh? Well I happen to need these pervs to come in and request dances so I can pay my bills” you said back to the man standing in front of you. 

He stepped forward and pulled out a small device from his utility belt and fiddled with the controls, you stood on your tippy toes to peek at what he was doing. Once he was done he turned the screen towards you and impatiently muttered, “there, now may we proceed with the check-in?” .

The small device showed your banking account and a slip for a transfer of 3500 credits- holy shit!

“Anakin, what?” you said in shock. 

“Now you don’t have to complain about losing money from that man” he said blankly before guiding you back to your dressing room. 

You knew the Jedi temple had a stash of funds, but that was just crazy! 3500 credits to skip one dance! 

As he guided you Anakin mulled over what to discuss with you in the room- he had just “checked in'' earlier today and both of you knew there wasn’t anything that went on in between then and now.

To be honest, he just didn’t want you going in there and dancing for someone… he didn’t like the idea of you doing that for anyone in private (unless it was him). 

Once you reached your room, you sat comfortably on your sofa and he took the seat adjacent to you. He was about to speak when a pile of your fabric began to move- Anakin’s senses heightened and he was ready to attack anything that came out. 

“Nechaska, my sweet girl! C'mere '' you smiled calling for your fluffy loth cat. 

She hurried to your side and hopped into your lap with a content purr. Anakin scoffed at the cat, a little embarrassed it startled him so much. 

“Nechaska?” he questioned, “you speak Huttese?”.

“Tagwa, um u jedai?” you responded with a smile.

“Tagwa mee'm tuta tatooine” he said, calling out his home planet. 

“Very nice- I like your accent” you smiled at his blushing face. 

“And I like your kitty” he smirked, pointing as Nachaska growled at the strange man in front of her, though both of you knew which kitty he was referring to. 

“You like my kitty? Wanna play with her” you flirted back with a laugh before coaxing the ball of fluff in your lap to back down. 

Yes I would, Anakin thought to himself before he strode closer and squatted down slowly so that he was eye height with the loth cat in your pretty lap. 

“Nene” you cooed, using her nickname, “It’s ok baby, he’s not gonna hurt you”. 

Anakin slowly extended his gloved hand but the cat swatted it away; she hissed once more before sinking her claws into his glove. Your eyes widened at her peculiar behavior before you pulled her away. 

“Nechaska! Bad girl- we don’t claw people! Are you alright Anakin?” you asked worriedly.

Anakin’s eyes were trained on your cleavage as your robe slid off your shoulder as you calmed your cat down and it didn’t help when you called his name so breathlessly (it made his dick stir). 

“Oh yea, i’m good” he said, snapping out of his trance. 

“She has really sharp claws, are you sure you’re ok?” you asked again. 

“Yea, don’t worry about it doll, can't feel it anyways” he laughed. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

He shrugged and began to take his glove off; you had never seen him without it. As it slid down his arm the fabric and skin was replaced by cool metal- a prosthetic! Did he lose it in battle-

“See, not a scratch- you don't have to worry about me” he said before reaching to pet your cat with his flesh hand, “She probably could tell it was metal- I’ve found that animals prefer the real thing” he smiled as she nuzzled her face against his large hand.

His large, strong, veiny hand. The tendons pulled as he maneuvered his fingers around Nene’s soft coat. His long fingers looked a little too appealing; wonder what would they feel like inside of-

“You’ve got a really nice pussy here” he said with a smirk, still looking at the cat (and not you). 

“Yea, she’s really sweet” you said before pulling her from his reach, “Now what did you need to talk to me about?” you said impatiently. 

He looked down with a smile and shook his head; he could tell you were jealous of the attention he was giving your pet- it was cute.

“Just wanted to ask if you had any more info or if you’d overheard anything lately?” he said as he took his normal seat on the velvety couch adjacent to your vanity. 

“Ani- what would I have heard? I’ve been on stage all night” you sighed; you didn't even realize you had shortened the Jedi’s name (it was a habit for you to give everyone nicknames, especially since you’d been in this business to long- people loved a good pet name). 

“What did you just call me?” the Jedi asked, placing his elbows firmly on his knees and leaning forward. 

He seemed displeased; you inhaled sharply. 

“Sorry, ‘ts a habit- I just shortened names a lot, I didn’t mean to offend you” you sputtered out as you subconsciously held Nene closer to your chest; her purrs against your chest gave you comfort. 

What you didn’t know was Anakin had to slide forward because his dick perked up at the name; he called you into this meeting so he couldn’t just leave now- but he also didn’t want you seeing his obvious hard-on.

…Especially just from his name. 

“It’s alright-” he said deeply. 

“I won’t call you that again, My apol-”

“No!” he half shouted, half pleaded; he cleared his throat and shook his head, “no, you’re good, sweetheart”. 

Sweetheart…

You almost had to suppress a moan as you clenched your thighs together. Anakin observed you and tried to analyze what was going through your mind- was the name too much?

Sure you were a flirty person but he could never tell if you actually meant it or if it was just your work persona. Either way, sometimes he just had to take a risk. 

“Well then, Ani… What other knowledge can I offer you?” you batted your lashes finally gaining your footing again. 

Before he could answer there was a familiar knock on your door, “Hey Z! C’mon in” you said standing. 

Your boss walked in somberly with Obi-Wan and another dancer, “Excuse the interruption my dear, but a new development has just arisen in the case”.

“Anakin, we need to talk to this young woman, now” the bearded man beckoned. 

“Would you be ok to do another dance tonight? Since Rini needs to be spoken to…” Z asked anxiously, his pale blue hands wringing around his robes. 

“Of course, Z” you said as the jedi and your coworker left the room. 

“What’s going on?” you asked worriedly once the door was closed. 

The tall twi’lek shook his head and you ran to his side as he buried his face in his hands. 

“Tarkir was found in the back alley, disarmed and severely injured” he explained and you allowed your Nene to sit in his lap. 

Takir was a Togruta who was a few years older than you who worked as head of security at the club. You and him didn’ talk much but there was a general sense of comradery among the club’s employees.

But you did know that he and Z had been together since you had worked at the establishment (which was years…). 

“Maker?! Where is he now? Is he going to be alright?” you asked, placing a comforting hand on Z’s back. 

“He’s been taken to a med center but I’m not sure if he’ll pull through…” Z sniffled.

“I'm so sorry Z- Is there anything I can do?” 

He shook his head, “No, but thank you dear… But Rini-”

“What about Rini?”

His fingers ran through your cat’s fur as he calmed himself (you’d never seen him so vulnerable). 

“She- She has been involved with the crimes… and the patron- Nevermind, I’m sure the Jedi will fill you in” he wiped at the tears forming in his eyes. 

“No- I need to know that you’ll be ok, I don’t want to leave you like this Z” you said as you placed your hands on his shoulders. 

He shook his head, “I’m fine- What would help me the most is if you would perform Rini’s number since she’s probably going to be arrested in a few hours” he attempted to joke and you nodded. 

“Alright” 

____________________________________

That night was the last time you saw the jedi pair; with the case solved, there was no reason for them to stick around.

The whole club had kinda gotten used to seeing them; honestly kind of a shame they wouldn’t be around anymore. 

Months went by and people moved on, but you couldn't remove Anakin from your mind- you really did start to like him… But it was relieving to know the immediate danger was gone. 

You still weren't really sure what actually occurred, but you did know that Rini was taken to the jedi temple and promptly replaced. Z hired a new head of security and spent more time at home caring for his lover and less time at the club. 

Things had definitely changed- for the first time in years you were not enjoying your work anymore. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why but you had begun searching for other jobs.

Sure the crimes had been absolved but something about the place just felt unsafe- especially since Z wasn’t there to manage it full time anymore. 

Tonight was the same as always, you got ready, warmed up, and headed backstage to wait for your cues. Recently your dancing had been lackluster- of course the patrons still enjoyed the show, but your heart just wasn't in it anymore. 

The presenter announced your oh-so familiar stage name and you strutted onstage. The LED lights of the club flashed as your song began. Without much effort you strutted down the stage to the silver pole and completed a full carousel swivel before landing in a split. The crowd cheered as you maneuvered your legs into a new position.

There were more patrons than usual tonight; was there a holiday you weren’t aware of? You scanned the crowd to get a feel of what kind of people you would be entertaining here tonight- they seemed kind of rowdy.

You almost missed your next move when your eyes landed on a familiar face; those piercing blue eyes, that scar- Anakin.

As you continued your performance, he watched intently, eyes never leaving your form. He really wasn’t supposed to be here but it had been too long since he saw you. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remove your enchantment from his mind. 

Night after night, he dreamed only of you; some nights he woke to stained boxer shorts, others, he had to rut his hips into his mattress to suppress his desire. 

Finally, today he was able to slip away from the temple to take some much needed personal time; Obi-Wan had asked him what his plan was and he explained he needed to go into the city to look at new parts for his arm.

Obviously that was a lie, because Anakin had just repaired it about a week ago, but Anakin had a feeling Obi-Wan already knew what he was doing. 

He donned civilian clothes and headed into the heart of the bustling city, ready to see you again. 

And here you were, dancing across the stage- how he missed the colored lights across your soft skin; he needed to speak with you. Your song finished and he practically ran to the teller to set up a private meeting. 

Forcefully he slammed his credits down on the counter and spoke, “I want to request room 3 with the last dancer that was on”.

“Oh, she is our highest rated dancer, her fees are very-” the woman said cautiously. 

“I’m aware, I’ll pay whatever I need to have an audience with her” Anakin spoke formally, making a few patrons laugh at his vernacular. 

“Alright” the woman replied skeptically, preparing to jot his name down. 

“Tell her it's Anakin,” he said before the woman handed him the shiny golden key to the room at the end of the hall. 

He entered the familiar room and sat with a nervous sigh- he was finally going to ask what he had been wanting to for months. 

_________________________________

You let your hair down from the tight updo it was in as someone knocked on your door. 

“Come in!” you said with a sigh; you really just wanted this night to be over. 

The desk attendant walked in with a notepad and started reading off the private dances you had scheduled tonight. 

“- Anakin” 

You stopped what you were doing and turned towards her. 

“Anakin?” you confirmed. 

“Yes, he's a taller guy with a scar over his-” she began.

“Clear my schedule for the rest of the night- I’m only seeing him” you said as you hastily searched for your best outfit (an elegant dress that wasn't too revealing). 

“B-but y/n, what about the other-”

“Tell them I have been fully booked or tell them that my availability has changed, ‘t doesn't really matter to me” you said, touching up your lipgloss. 

She nodded before heading for the door, “He’s in room 3”. 

Room 3… you took a deep breath as you made your way down the velvety hallway.

Everything's gonna be fine- just be confident as always.

With a tremor in your hand you reached for the door.

***

a/n: soo yea sorry abt all of the new characters but i wanted to make this story realistic lolll- idk y but perv ani has been on my mind 😩

#anakin x reader #anakin #star wars x reader #star wars #anakin x you #no attachments #anakin star wars #jedi anakin #anakin skywalker x female reader #obi wan and anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #sw smut #star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith

[lemonykoo]

let me get my husband for you! - diluc

Pairing: Husband!Diluc x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff! Female reader.

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: You decided to visit Diluc at the tavern as he worked – somewhat a rare occasion – and a new Mondstadt resident has to learn the hard way that you’re not available. Warnings: guys are weird lmao and they say out of pocket things sometimes (also the ending sucks lmao)

It was a typical night at Angel’s Share tavern. It was definitely busy, as expected from a weekend with many of the knights and guild members coming in and out after a long day of work, as the same with regular citizens as well. It wasn’t even close to closing, so everyone was loud and in good spirits and drinks were handed out by, what seemed like, the dozen. You were one of those patrons, though you didn’t exactly spend all day fighting off hilichurls or taking care of problems that were more of a topic for the knights. Much like your husband, you yourself was somewhat of a business owner as you had taken on your parent’s family business that had, of course, been handed down to them many years ago. Today was busy for you, as you had to get up early and deal with meetings and other tasks all day long. With that being said, you also needed a breather from the stress of the day! Not only that, but you hadn’t seen Diluc at all today except for when you two departed in the morning, so you just couldn’t wait until late tonight to see your handsome husband. While you weren’t usually one for loud drunks or even alcohol itself, you did make rare appearances in the tavern just to surprise your husband and say a few hellos to people you knew that frequented the establishment. And even if you didn’t know many of the customers personally, they all knew you as the tavern owner’s wife – or better yet, just that you were married to the Diluc Ragnvinder – so a spot at the bar would be cleared just for you, no questions asked. So when you walked in tonight, your nice clothes still on from your earlier meetings, a barstool that had once been occupied by a member of the Adventurer’s Guild opened up with your name written all over it.

You’d always start off with a glass of wine and it would always been the finest (and on the house) because Diluc would always been delighted to see you. (The shine in his eyes and warm smile would always make an appearance as soon as he noticed you.) Even if he couldn’t always talk to you since he was busy, having your presence was enough. You’d normally chat with someone else, like Rosaria who was seated next to you tonight, so you weren’t alone or just awkwardly sitting and waiting for your husband to find the time to say something to you. And in hindsight, you guess that was why newcomers didn’t always catch on that you and the winery owner were married. The drink he’d slide over to you could just be because you were a frequent customer, right? At least, that’s what the guy that sat on the other side of you thought, because once he saw an opportunity pop up, he struck up a conversation with you.

“I don’t normally see a pretty lady like you in here alone,” he greeted, drawing your attention away from your friend on your other side.

To be fair, you knew it was best to not play along with these people. However, when your husband was just across the bar, lost in his own world of serving and cleaning, you couldn’t help it. After all, it was a little amusing to see the looks on people’s faces when they realized that not only were you already taken, but you were taken by the uncrowned king of Mondstadt. “Well, I decided it was time to finally make an appearance here,” you joked, your voice a little louder than normal so the man could hear you over the other rowdy patrons. You would never explicitly flirt with them or lead them on, but instead answer their questions and engage in what little chit-chat you could before having to play a damsel in distress and have your husband make them aware that you weren’t available. (As if the wedding ring on your finger didn’t already say that, but who was paying attention to it, anyways?)

“Let me guess,” the guy started, very obviously checking you out before smirking. You could tell he was already teetering on the edge of being completely drunk. “Your husband’s out of town? Because any guy with you would be smart enough to keep you at home, ya know?”

You looked off in feign thought, humming. “I’m not sure I do know, actually. Enlighten me.”

He smirked. “Well, obviously. You’re beautiful so every guy is going to want you. Or, are you trying to get away from him? That’s it, isn’t it?” He took a sip from his glass before gesturing toward yours. “Let me buy you drink.”

“Oh, no thank you, I haven’t even finished this one,” you said, showing how your cup had over half still. Besides, even if it was close to being empty, you could only manage about one full glass before becoming a bit too tipsy yourself.

“Listen,” he stated, turning more toward you. “I’d be more than willing to let you out of whatever situation your old man at home has got you tied up in, whether it be for tonight-” he hiccupped, “- or for however long you want it to be. In fact, if you want me to tell him how it isn’t fair that he’s not letting you get out and let yourself go as a pretty lady like you should, I will!”

“You will?” you asked, placing a hand to your chest, giving him a kind smile. “That’s so kind of you. Actually, my husband is here tonight.”

The guy blinked before quickly looking around. “Really?” he asked, his eyes returning to yours. “Well, point him out to me and I’ll give him a piece of my mind and then you and me can have a great night together.”

You smiled bigger, your eyes twinkling. You could feel Rosaria giving you confused looks as you faked searching for this mystery husband of yours before exclaiming a silent “oh!” and leaning toward the bar. “Hey, honey! This guy wants to talk to you!”

And this is exactly why you liked being a little meanie and playing with flirts like this. Because as soon as Diluc turned around from his task at hand, a look of question on his face as he made his way over to you to see what was going on, all life seemed to drain from the man that once really wanted to take you out two seconds ago. “What can I do for you?” your husband, who actually treated you very well, asked innocently, unaware of the interaction you had just been having.

“Uh, I just uh, wanted to you tell you that your wine is fantastic. Best wine I’ve ever had, really,” the man lied, his face beginning to turn a shade of red similar to your husband’s hair. “Unfortunately, I think I might have had just a little too much tonight and I have to go home.” Before Diluc could say thanks and wish him a safe return home, the man abruptly slipped out of his seat and took off out the door. The pyro user turned to see you and Rosaria snickering like someone had told you two the best joke in the world. He suddenly caught on and sighed.

“Y/N, you have got stop scaring my customers like that,” he chided, moving to stand more in front of you. He placed his elbows on the countertop and held out his hands for you to take, which you did immediately. It was a little habit you two had whenever Diluc had enough time to talk to you while working. He’d rub his calloused fingers over the soft skin of your knuckles as you two would talk, dreamily gazing into your eyes as if he couldn’t get enough of you (because, really, he couldn’t).

“I’m not scaring them away. I’m sure he’ll be back,” you giggled. “He’ll just know better than to hit on me next time! If I left it up to you, then they would be scared away and there wouldn’t be a next time.”

Well, Diluc couldn’t argue with that logic. In fact, the customers he had gotten onto himself for flirting with you hadn’t been back since. There were only a couple of them, and those time had been when you had gotten a little drunk yourself and weren’t too aware of the intentions of others. Besides, he found it amusing how much enjoyment you got out of showing off your spouse. But, he wouldn’t outright admit to that, of course.

#lex’s writing 💫 #Genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin diluc #diluc #diluc x reader

[pasukiyo]

hear me out. chewing steve’s gum. not like his person pack of him, like the gum in his mouth. you swap it in a kiss and you get his mint gum and he gets your regular bubble gum flavor. it gets him going when you ask him “stevie, can i have your gum” looking at him with big doe eyes, why would he ever deny you??

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐦.

— steve harrington x f!reader

warnings; mentions of smut at the end if you squint.

a/n; this idea bro had me giggling for the past how ever many days its been since you sent it in 😩

word count; 959

disclaimer; this is set after season four, since ferris bueller didn’t come out until months after the latest season takes place so keep that in mind because everything is fine with hawkins okay 😠

“so, don’t you think that sloane definitely had a thing for cameron? i mean, c’mon, the way she was caressing his face when he was in shock… you can’t tell me she didn’t feel something.”

 she gazed up at her boyfriend from her spot on his lap, watching the way his jaw moved every time he chewed his piece of mint gum. his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns into her forearm, his other folded behind his head as he leaned against skull rock. “you’ve been on about this since we went to the theater last week,” she reminded, chuckling behind her piece of bubblegum, “you’re obsessed.”

 he unfolded the arm behind his head and outstretched it, eyes widening in his sockets. “i’m just saying, she was acting all excited about ferris wanting to marry her at the end but she clearly has some type of feelings for cameron. alls i’m saying is that it’s weird,” he argued, “and i’m not obsessed, i just don’t like shit like that. if you’re gonna commit to someone, you can’t be having feelings for someone else. that’s it.”

 she giggled again, the bubblegum popping in her mouth as she reached up, tickling the underside of his chin with her forefinger. “you’re cute when you’re mad, harrington,” she teased, and he glimpsed down at her. “mad? i’m not mad, i was just saying—“

 “steve,” she tittered, pushing herself up in his lap, turning her body so that she faced him, her arms wrapping around his neck and drawing him in closer. her fingertips massaged his scalp as they chewed their pieces of gum, the fiery glint in his deep, brown eyes fizzling out as he leaned back into her touch. “don’t get your panties in a wad, old man, it’ll only give you more wrinkles.”

 “you think i’m wrinkly?” he cocked an eyebrow. she hummed, pushing her gum flat against her teeth before blowing a small bubble, letting it pop back into her mouth. “i can’t believe you. i am not wrinkly, and i am not old,” steve pouted, smacking his gum angrily. she laughed, “you’re pushing twenty, harrington. you’re practically withering away now as we speak.”

 his eyelids narrowed, “am not.”

 “oh, yes you are.”

 “am not!”

 “yes you are.”

 “you know what? i can’t believe we’re having this argument right now. you’re going to be twenty come next year anyways,” he pointed out. “so doesn’t that make you old too?”

 “no,” she replied. “because i’m not wrinkly.”

 steve stopped chewing his gum to instead press his lips together in a firm, thin line. “that’s it. i’m breaking up with you,” he tried to push himself away, but couldn’t help the small smile creeping upon his lips. 

 he wasn’t trying very hard to get her off of him, after all. 

 “like i’d ever let you do that,” she murmured, her lips a ghost against his. he tensed when she drew closer, and it of course didn’t go unnoticed. she rolled her hips around on his lap, playing it off as trying to get more comfortable, but his hands rested on her curves, keeping her settled into one place. 

 “stevie,” she purred, the tip of her nose nuzzling against his and her eyelashes fluttering. “can i have your gum?”

 steve inhaled sharply and tilted his head at this, trying to look anywhere but her eyes because he knew all too well that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to resist her. “i thought you hated mint.“

 she hummed as she, too, tilted her head the opposite of his, their lips fitting together perfectly now, but not quite pressed together. “i do. but it tastes like you,” her voice was but a mere whisper, “switch with me. i know you love bubblegum.”

 with a finger on the underside of his chin, she lifted his face until their eyes could meet, and she knew the second he folded.

 he melted.

 when she looked at him with such big, glistening irises, how could he deny her? she was alluring, a siren much too strong to resist. all it took was one look, and he was practically putty in her hands. 

 “god, c’mere.”

 he cupped the back of her neck and tugged her into him until their lips surged together, the mix of mint and bubblegum along with their saliva making them hum. she could feel the wad of mint gum sitting on his tongue, and guided it onto her own, steve doing the same with her piece of bubblegum. their lips lingered, even after the transaction, tongues doing pirouettes around one another, teasingly, lovingly. when they did eventually pull away, their foreheads rested against one another, and she hummed at the piece of gum in her mouth, steve harrington’s flavor overpowering the faded taste of mint. 

 “mmm, tastes just like you,” she tittered, and he pursued his lips. “i taste like faded mint?’

 “steve. that’s gross.”

 “i hope that means i don’t.”

 “no, you actually taste good.”

 “hm,” he hummed, blowing a bubble with the piece of bubblegum she had given him. “you taste amazing.”

 her smile was a crescent against his lips, “that’s not the first time i’ve heard you say that,” she teased, nuzzling her nose against his. steve laughed at this, stealing her lips for a swift kiss. a small silence ensued, but they relished in the silence, in the feeling of one another’s hands on each other’s bodies, in the warmth of each other’s skin. 

 “you know, skull rock is like, the makeout spot. i pretty much in—“

 “invented it, yeah, yeah, i know.”

 he scrunched his nose at this, playfully bopping his forehead against hers, and her chest heaved when she giggled. 

 “but you know, it’s not only known for making out.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things headcanons #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Transference Ch 2

inspired by @scealaiscoite 's touch-starved prompts

TW: First aid on bad wounds, uhhh swearing? cuz Danny should get to say fuck, can't think of anything else atm, if u want a better list follow the Pt 1 link to my Ao3

Go gently friends,

~Ren

Pt 1

Danny wants to pull this plane apart. He would do it happily! With a little extra enthusiasm. He wants to remove panels to see the guts, how the wires connected and weaved together to put this wonder together. What gave the engine that quiet whisper of a purr that even with Danny’s dialed up senses he could barely hear it? Was it made out of special metal? A plane used in vigilante missions must have been reinforced with special materials in case of impact or a crash. Who oversaw the maintenance? Danny wanted to meet the person who regularly got elbows deep in the bowels.

How many special security measures did it have? Since this was Batman’s plane probably more than Danny could think of. How many secrets did it guard? This plane probably had access to some very dangerous information, so one would assume it was a target. The plane was vulnerable being left unattended wherever they were. With the vigilante’s away on their mission their rogues could play. Danny knew firsthand with his own rogues. Was the plane on the same network as the Batcave? It had to be right? At least the comms? Was it in case they had to share updates on confidential files between locations? Danny’s fingers itch to get his hands on the controls, examine the programming, maybe find a systems list. 

He can’t see the plane that well yet, but he can feel it hum under his feet. The soft vibration works its way up his body-it’s nice, he decides, to be able to focus on figuring out what exactly was running down below rather than his brother collecting a number of things before moving behind him. Danny was close enough to the wall that his fingers traced along barely there seams between the smooth, cool to the touch metal. He wouldn’t know how durable it is unless someone told him what the material was, but the likelihood of them divulging their secrets was very low, if nonexistent. 

Still Danny was free to wonder, no one could restrict his thoughts. What kind of weapons systems did it have? Surely there must be a bathroom. Regular planes had those small ones, if Danny’s experience with Vlad’s displays of wealth told him anything, the obnoxiously rich liked to embellish their already expensive things with expensive add-ons. Danny can’t yet see how big the cabin is, but he’s perched on some sort of cot. He must be in some sort of medical treatment area that the Bats use when they get injured on missions and there is no doctor readily available. 

If things go well after his eyes are healed maybe his father would let him take a look around? (They currently were itching something fierce as they slowly healed.) 

The parallel between the Fentons and Bruce Wayne’s intelligence was not lost on Danny, and he cannot help but feel so heart wrenchingly fond.  He has had a lifetime habit of collecting parents that have made brilliant vehicles. 

(He ached for the time before the portal when he was close with the family that took him in, when that GAV was simply an RV to take deep in the woods and lay out a blanket on the hood or roof to watch the stars, talking about the possibility of something more out there.)

Danny can’t stop his flinch from where Nightwing had accidentally rubbed too hard along the edge of his shoulder. “Hey Bud?” Nightwing calls out, “Lookin at your back, well, some of the tissue has started dying,” The man genuinely sounded upset about it, did he not know? “it’ll need to be removed, but I’ll have Agent A take a look when we get off a moving vehicle, okay?” His brother finished explaining over Danny’s internal tangent. His back doesn’t hurt that bad, which is concerning in its own way since the wound was- as dick pointed out- awful, but it did draw him back out of head. Danny bobs his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll clean them up the best I can for now.” Danny probably wasn’t supposed to hear that mumble that sounded like Richard was talking to himself, as though he was reassuring himself there was something productive he could do to improve the situation. 

Despite the setback, the vigilante is calm, sitting behind Danny painstakingly cleaning his back wounds. So far unshaken by what Danny is certain is a grotesque scene the man is chattering away about patrols and the person called Agent A, who he is reassured will meet them back at the Cave. It kind of amazed Danny how the man was able to endure his tiny flinches and hissed breath to try while trying to distract him. Danny currently wasn’t an easy patient to stomach. 

The sores tunneled down through fat and muscle to his bone. Most of the sores were in stage four, it didn’t take them long to eat away at him and fester, even before becoming a halfa the boy was tall and willowy meaning he had no body fat to slow down the progression of the forming injuries. They hadn’t tried to hide anything from him in the time he was trapped there. After all, if a ghost isn’t sentient, it can’t possibly understand in-depth scientific experiments so why bother to attempt secrecy that would be a waste of precious time and energy. They had simply discussed it like everything else, over his twisted body for most of the day. The scientists had only moved him previously when they needed access to a different part of his body. When they discovered his body started to develop bed sores They were excited. (Danny felt himself slipping away from his body into his memory, he was slipping away from Richard.)

“That’s odd…Honey! Look,” The woman said softly some time into his captivity. She’s pointing at his side, Danny can’t tell what she could be pointing at, all of him hurts. He can’t remember what they did there that could be worth pointing out now. Them not remembering sends a weak chill down his spine, they kept meticulous notes even if it was swallowed by their disorganized storage, it shouldn’t be possible for them to be surprised at the state he’s in since they carefully crafted the condition he’s in. Her fingers flick his collar on, unbuckling the right restraint as she goes before they sharply dig into his right shoulder, before flipping him onto his side roughly to see from another angle like that old map on their family trip to see Aunt Alicia last summer. “It’s getting sores! Stage two I’d say.” 

“Bed sores? It’s hurting itself?” The man’s voice comes out bewildered before he leans closer to see and then cheerfully muses. “Seems like the ectoscum can cannibalize itself! Look at the inflammation! Do you think the infection and strain could kill a ghost?” Danny whimpers behind his muzzle when he can feel the man in his curiosity starting to poke at the edges of the wound with something metal and sharp. “Huh, Mads?” The man prompts.

The woman doesn’t respond. Their silence blankets the room, the scientists both thinking over what they see, what it means. 

The woman makes a small sound and goes rigid reaching for her husband. “I-It’s damaging Danny’s corpse!” She wails in grief, Danny wants to wail right along with her that they’re already destroying his body, "Degrading him further-” A sob echoes in the lab ripping his heart into tatters, Danny tries not to think too hard on the fact he’s so affected by her distress even though they’ve been elbow deep in his ribcage, poking, prodding and removing organs. He tracks the diagonally moving tears as they dribble down the side of his face, across his left cheek to disappear into his hairline. He feels ashamed, after all this hurt, he still loves them, his core still cries out for them. He realizes she’s not just sobbing now the woman is screaming at his prone form, “-how cruel is your species going to be!? Get out. GET OUT OF OUR SON! Murderer! You-” 

NO!

No, now isn’t the time to think about that. 

Danny can taste the iron from his bitten cheek and the salt from wayward tears. He takes a deep breath trying to ground himself in the present. Nightwing had seen the lab, the sight of the mad scientist’s work had made him physically sick, pulled him so carefully from that table, smoothly carrying him away from his own personal hell to the Batplane. They aren’t here. He was… safe with his brother, for the moment.

A crackle of static explodes from behind him causing Danny to flinch away from his brother before a mess of different voices comes through. He can’t hear what they’re saying, the voices too tangled, too unfamiliar, and too quiet since he didn’t have a direct connection, but whatever is said at the end is enough for the vigilante to go rigid and pause in his ministrations to reply. “Woah, B, I’m still here, no need to sound so scary!” Richard chuckles a bit and doesn't feel scared or worried, so Danny relaxes again. 

The eldest son hums, “No, I just was ignoring you,” Danny cracked a small smile at the plume of amusement that drifted between them. Richard’s hand grasps his own gently, “Yes I know how batty you get when I shut off my comms. Yes, I found the main lab.” Richard huffs, “Yes. B, I got ‘im out, we’re in the plane, I’m looking over him now. Have you forgotten I’ve been doing this with you since I was eight or that I took over the Batman mantle under the assumption you were dead?” Richard's voice strains a little in frustration by the end.

Another smaller burst of noise comes quickly in response. Danny flushes weakly in embarrassment as he realizes, like with Team Phantom, it was probably Nightwing’s team all talking over each other in his earpiece. Danny’s core aches at the thought of his sister and friends, how long has it been since Danny’s heard their voices? Weeks? Months? Ancients, could he have been with Them for a year? More?

A single voice breaks through over the others, whatever was said had Nightwing tense, ready to spring to his feet, bursting at the seams with rage-protect-refusal-grief. 

The sudden change in his bubbly brother would’ve knocked Danny down had he been standing, because he isn’t standing Danny reaches out. Danny might not trust him but his father’s eldest hasn’t even tried to hide what he was feeling. Might not know he needs to. He has his ‘eyes’ wide open now. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice and he became a lab frog. There will not be a third time. Danny will not trust this side of his family blindly but that doesn’t mean he can turn away from the man now.

He squeezes his brother’s hand gently to draw his attention, Danny could hear the man force himself to take a long, deep breath. A soft burst of affection-love-love-love-protection brushed against him in return. It was delicate and wispy but strong enough to linger in the air around them. It couldn’t hurt to keep the contact going, Danny decided. Anything to keep that depressing cocktail of emotions from creeping back. 

“No.” Another breath, “Stay there and finish what we started.” The tone is cold and leaves no room for argument. “No one comes on board. This isn’t about what you, or Robin or anyone wants. This is about him. What he needs to feel safe enough to leave here with me. This is about trust. So. If he has decided that he would like some peace and quiet on the way home, he’ll be getting it. Anyone who has an issue with that can take it up with me in the ring when we get back. Any questions?” Nightwing growls into his comms, a singular voice says something after a moment. 

Danny strains to try and catch what was said. He doesn’t want them to fight over him. “Good,” His brother loses the edge to his voice, “I’ll send the plane back to pick you guys up!” The coms shut off abruptly and he says to Danny, “Sorry about them!” 

Danny just shrugs in response as his brother resituates himself on the cot, unhooking Danny’s hand from his to move it so it rested against Richard’s calf. Danny accepted the change with a weak flex of his hand feeling the rasp of kevlar against his palm. Danny always remembered it because of its interesting texture. Perfect for their dangerous nightlife. If Danny needed armor this is what he’d want to get his hands on, a team with resources tends to help too. Keeping in touch with one’s team is important, Danny can’t fault Richard for that. They settle back into a comfortable silence. 

Because they were connected it was easy to catch the beginnings of Richard’s hesitance stirring, “If.. How would it make you feel if your brother wanted to see you?” Richard asks hesitantly as he unexpectedly starts on a new wound making Danny flinch forward. “Sorry Danny.” The genuine, unfiltered feeling of remorse unsettles Danny a bit but instead of retreating he leans into it. The people who once had been his parents- who he still loved despite what had happened, it was all encompassing and intertwined with his anger and longing- had never felt remorse for hurting him. Danny shook his head a bit, Richard is still waiting for a response. 

His brother? Richard was his brother, technically, even if Danny’s not sure he can risk staying with the Bats. He won’t deny anyone their connection to Bruce or Batman. Richard was gentle and caring while his emotions bubbled up and warmed Danny to his core like he was in a jacuzzi. He couldn’t have meant himself so that must mean one of the others wanted to see him? Would they be like Richard? Are any of them upset at the idea that another child was connected to Bruce? 

They were all siblings, all family through their father but that doesn’t mean the connection has to be acknowledged or the label meant anything. Brother, sister, son, they were all just words. Family extended only as far as the living with the Fentons. Him being half-dead disqualified him quickly once they discovered his secret. Danny wasn’t exactly excited to find out what his father and his brood thought of his after-life.

Unsure, Danny shrugged again and played with the sweatshirt, he liked bunching it in his hands. 

A few minutes of silence went by before a beeping started up. His brother sighed, not sounding surprised and started digging around looking for something. That something is placed in his hand, it takes a second for Danny to work out what it is. A comm. He throws a questioning hum back at Richard. “He’s calling on a private line, I figured you could listen in and make your own decision.” That. That was very considerate. Giving him a choice. Seems to be on trend for the man. Danny is rightfully suspicious but slips the comm into his ear nodding to go ahead and connect them. There’s a beep signaling the connection was established. Danny wasn’t prepared who he would hear on the other end.

“Wing. I am converging on your location. What is his status?” The voice is breathless, and the tone is harsh, filled with frustration but familiar. A voice lost to time and those damned sand dunes. 

“He’s currently conscious, Little D. Banged up but we expected that. Thought I told everyone to hold their positions?” He questions softly, a distinct contrast to the almost harsh tone he used on the comms earlier. Dick knows Damian has been desperate to find Danny running himself into the ground searching labs and bases, the team tried and failed to get him to rest or slow down for a moment to regroup. Isn't surprising that he’s decided to abandon his part of the mission and head for the plane. It kills Dick but he’ll have to be very firm in his stance besides Danyal, if he says no other Bats on the plane, Dick will leave Damian behind.

“Tt. I did not abandon my responsibilities. Orphan is finishing our section,” Damian sounds offended their brother even implied that he didn’t do a thorough job, the familiar reaction lessens some of the uncertainty Danny is feeling. “I have arrived, open the doors, Wing.”

“Sorry Baby Bat, no can do!” Nightwing cheerfully responds, “I’m-” Danny tugs hard on the man’s sleeve.

Danny signs frantically, D.A.M.I. comes aboard. Now. Hurry. We are mirrors. Dangerous 

The man looks confused at his interjection but has such a soft smile on his face at Danny’s response until it turns to a frown at the last bit, one that Danny realizes with a start that he can finally see. Slowly the man reaches for his comm, “Scratch that, Baby D says you need to come aboard. Looks like those bastards could have it out for you too.” 

~~~~~~~

Dick watches both of his brothers as Robin rushes inside as soon as the door is cracked enough to squeeze through. Dick stays where he is by the console, hitting the buttons to close the door and listens to the many locks reengage. Once secure he inputs their destination and hits autopilot. Better to get Danny to Alfred as soon as possible now that both twins are on board. If he has to separate them… Well, there are some tranquilizers on board and Dick is sure Damian could enjoy his nap in the bathtub as punishment for upsetting their very injured new sibling. Damian freezes a few steps from the door, Dick sees the desperate drive to find his twin that has been hounding the boy for weeks extinguishing the moment he laid eyes on the cot. He’s ripping off his domino mask with no hesitation, exposing his full face for them to see.

Dick almost relaxes when he sees the awe that broke through first on Danny’s face at Damian’s entrance, the emotion flickers away quickly before he tucks his chin in and his face is obscured in shadow. The urge to jump in and soothe him rises so quickly Dick almost rises from his seat but instead throws his weight back further until his hip digs in a bit to the arm and he knows he will remain in place. He would not interfere unless Danny became physically distressed. Danny had wanted to see Damian, Dick reminds himself. Dick had a few reasons he had even asked the boy about it. If things went well it truly would be good for both of the twins. 

Dick had seen Damian determined before, seen the kid get news that left him shaken and lost, but no one had seen him flip flop from rattled to be as focused or push himself that hard, not even when Damian was convinced the only way to prove his worth to Bruce was killing his older siblings. He’s grown so much over the years and is now making his own decisions and having so many different experiences, his little brother has learned so much and came so far. Dick didn’t think it was possible to feel prouder. 

“Dami.” Danny croaks with a wince and a hand at his throat. He’s looking at his lap, his other hand fiddling with the sheets.

“Danyal.” Damian’s voice wavers, “Ahki.”  The boy is rooted to his spot, waiting for permission to approach. The words visibly hit Danny and he shakes his head a wounded whine. He clearly didn’t expect his twin to be here nor Damian to recognize him as blood, as a brother. Danny’s hand drops the sheet reaching for Damian. His body starts to tilt forward, and Dick can’t help but take a step towards them even as Damian rushes to meet Danny, carefully draping his arms around Danny’s shoulders which gently keeps him from falling to the floor. There isn’t much unbroken skin to rest Damian’s arms on, but Danyal hardly seems to care.   

A heart wrenching sob fills the cabin, their youngest sibling gripping Damian’s cape so tightly his knuckles are white. Dick can just make out the quiet tones of Damian speaking Arabic quietly in their brother’s ear. Their bodies sway with the instinctual drive to comfort, it’s touching, very cute… 

Always one to take advantage of sibling shenanigans Dick quickly pulls out his phone with a smile and snaps a picture to send to the boys later… And the group chat that Damian isn’t in. Picture sent, he tucks his phone away. His phone vibrates with multiple notifications but doesn’t check it. The Bat Brood can simmer. Dick smirks as he moves back over to the sink to wash his hands so he can continue treating Danyal’s back. The tears and sobs abruptly cut off behind him. 

“Fuck.”   

~~~~~

If Danny didn’t just spend an unknown amount of time being tortured by the family that chose him as a child, he would be sinking through the floor in mortification. Damian was here. His gaze burned from the entrance and Danny for a long moment was afraid. What was Damian seeing when he gazed at the pathetic picture Danny made hunched on the cot? Danny couldn’t help but fidget with the sheet to try and ease the unsteady feeling in his chest. He’d wait. Yes. Let Damian brave the quiet- “Dami.” The broken sound leaves his throat, oh ouch. 

He raises a hand to hover over the area, cradling it as if his palm could dampen the scratching pain. Danny waits. He had fucked it up. He hasn’t even given his brother the respect of meeting his gaze. (Not that he can see clearly for more than a foot in front of him, everything past that was misshapen and difficult to make out.) What in the Infinite Realms has possessed him to call out to Damian so casually, affectionately? Damian had only ever allowed that name in the hush of the night when they were alone. 

“Danyal.” Oh. “Ahki.” Oh. Oh Damian, his other half. Awe-grief-regret-vengeance- protect-help-love whipped across the space between them, heavy and fierce Danny can’t help but shake his head with a sharp whine. Guilt chokes him for doubting his twin, his other half. With distance he was able to bottle up his yearning and then he was so busy with the portal, rogues and Zone, he had been too exhausted to reminisce too deeply about his childhood. He kept his eye on the news for surface level stuff, had seen his brother go to their father but didn’t dare make a move to follow him. 

He regrets that now as Damian slips his arms around his shoulders gently securing him back onto the cot. Damian was holding him like he’d shatter at too hard of a grip, but Danny doesn’t care, he’s in his brother's arms. Damian is hugging him. Danny can’t stop the sobs that bubble from his chest, it hurts each inhale pulls at his y-incision, the pain he hasn’t felt rushing forward. Danny fists fabric and pulls his brother close.

"Baby brother,” Damian crooned in quiet Arabic “Danyal, I’m here. I got you. You did well enduring until help arrived, I’m so proud of you.” Damian’s emotions were overwhelming, they accompanied his sweet words enveloping his senses. He wasn’t lying, Danny can feel it. The rage that’s rising within Damian should scare him yet he’s leaning on his brother harder. Damian is furious with Them, not Danny.  He sobs and listens to his brother's promises of safety, of retribution. He feels safe here cradled close in Damian’s arms. Truly safe, something hidden deep within him unwinds. 

He knows how stubborn his twin is, how he would’ve fought tooth and nail to be part of the team that was looking for him. He’ll have to ask about that later, how they’d even know to go looking for him when he’s years dead, buried, and bones for his birth family. He was a little mad they’d bring his brother here when- 

His core shutters in his chest. The feeling that something was wrong hit Danny harder than Skulker. “Fuck.” Danny reluctantly pulls back from Damian. His core pulses weakly. Danny somehow knows it’s a warning. 

“Danyal?” Damian sounds wary, his hand grips Danny’s arm tightly. The pressure is reassuring because Danny is so scared right now. But this could be worse. With Damian here, perhaps things will turn out okay.  

Danny wants to linger looking at his eyes. A shade he’s never found a substitute for, but so desperately tried to keep fresh in his memory. Time slows. His core pulses. Danny’s body wavers for a heartbeat in his brother's grip. “What is happening?!” Damian looks alarmed, his grip tightening and releasing like he does with his blades while gearing up for a fight. It’s cute and almost makes Danny coo at his elder brother.  

Running out of time Danny grits his teeth and frees his arm to start signing as fast as he can to try and explain. It would help if he knew how much they knew about him, the Fentons, the GIW and ghosts but they didn’t have time for a report. He doesn’t want to say too much but he has to warn them. If Vlad finds out he’s away from the GIW and vulnerable he was screwed. The Bat Parade isn’t trained in ghost fighting. Danny would be taken and who knows if he’d ever be able to escape.

Had an accident. Not fully human. Too much physical damage- Danny signs.

His core pulsed weakly interrupting him before it pulled, his body rippled in sync. His head swims, words are hard to remember for a moment. Danny has to hurry, and he isn’t really sure how he wants to phrase this next part, if anything causes the Bats to change their minds about helping him, it won’t matter what Damian wants. The only way for Danny was through, avoidance wouldn’t help at this point. 

-I’m about to hibernate in my C. O. R. E. Core- He continues.

“Core? What is a core?” Dick breaks in. Danny’s eyes jumped to the man, before focusing back on Damian, there wasn’t time. They would barely be getting a shitty explanation out of Danny didn’t have time for questions from the peanut gallery. Damian's gaze is calm and steady when it meets his. He hasn’t turned away from him, he didn’t interrupt. 

 -I haven’t seen it, but it’s… my everything, heart, organs, brain. Core heals. Without a human body DANGEROUS for me. Danny is sure to emphasize again, DANGEROUS, vulnerable. 

Find J. A. Z. Z. F. E. N. T. O. N. Useful. Ally- Danny hesitates on why but gives in- knowledge, weapons, shields. 

V.L. A. D. Enemy. Vlad is bad. Don’t trust. 

He makes the sign for creep and sees Damian’s expression shutter under his protective rage. An instinctive small trill leaves Danny’s lips, pleased that if Vlad shows his face Damian won’t make it easy for him to have his way. 

Despite his best effort Danny is losing steam his instructions come out choppy. He has moments left. 

Damian watches him, like he can feel Danny’s core shift, resignation seeps off his body in waves but determination makes his expression fierce, “You will be safe, Danyal. I will be here when you return.” We will be together. Danny hears the unspoken promise. 

A. H. K. I. You’re a target. I love you. Danny signs their personal signal for head on a swivel and then reels Damian back in, desperate for one last touch to make him real. Tucked in his twin's arms Danny gives himself over to that feeling of safety, clinging to it as he sank into his core. 

~~~~~

Damian blinked light out of his eyes and frowned at the big black spot taking up his vision. His hand now hid what was left of his twin. Danyal had just been in front of them horribly hurt but alive. Finding and freeing his twin was all that had mattered to him. Damian lightly squeezes the hand holding his brother’s quiet core to feel the shape of it in his palm. Once more in his life Danny’s vibrant presence is just out of his reach. 

Grief is an old friend that rises to swallow him. Damian beats it back viciously. Black and blue move closer in his peripheral vision, his eldest brother snatches him close-no. Them close. His brother is still alive. He’s healing. Damian reminds himself despite the sudden wave of failure that crashed into him. Holds onto the thought stubbornly as he examines the stone in his hand. It’s the same shade of blue that makes up Danyal’s eyes. 

The impulsive part of him calms looking into the swirling blue. 

If he hadn’t seen the transformation himself. If he hadn’t been allowed aboard… he wouldn’t believe it. Damian is immensely grateful that captivity hadn’t broken his brother, not completely. Danny had been hesitant but had put his trust in them. Damian had seen his hesitation, the wariness, how Danyal had shrunken into himself, his instincts likely screaming to run, to hide. Whether that trust was because he chose to, or if he ran out of options, Damian didn’t want to know the answer. The unknown time between them no longer was a curiosity to be explored in ‘what ifs’ but a potential threat that Danyal needed to handle carefully. It stung, it being logical didn’t detract from that. Too many years apart, too much had changed within each of them, and their relationship cut short before it took off but not before carving out a part of him. Nothing could compare to the cruel crater Danyal’s life had left in his wake of his death.

His twin’s core gleamed innocently in his palm. 

“Damian.” Richard’s worried tone draws his attention away from Danyal’s new form. 

Damian keeps his gaze on the core, takes a calming breath and promises himself that when Danyal is back, they’ll go to the place he secured and created with his twin in mind after coming to Gotham, show him Damian’s sketchbooks and paintings, and introduce him to the animals in his care. Damian will finally get to share this strange, chaotic, but warm family with him, as he was always meant to. Damian would be careful that there would be no mistakes, no lead unfollowed, every piece would be gathered together and turned over, a plan would be made that would safeguard their victory. Danyal is relying on him. Damian will utilize everything he’s gained over their years apart to protect his brother.

“Release me,” Damian demands as he wiggles out of his brother’s arms, but it doesn’t come out as firm as it would normally and turns to glance at the closest monitor. They still had two hours left until they arrived at the manor. Damian glances at Danyal’s core in his hand before he turns to face Richard. He looks like he needs to lie down but he has managed to keep a wobbling smile on his face. “Tt this is a mere setback,” Damian scowls at the little marble, he can’t be mad when his little brother gave him such valuable information on what pieces are on the board, the board he’s been playing on wherever he’s been hiding. 

“Here, hold him for a moment- No!” Damian’s shout is too loud, it echoes around the cabin. His panic morphs his expression and his brother thankfully does halt his casual reckless reaching for their brother who is a quarter-sized marble. Danny only had said he was vulnerable before he ran out of time, they must exert the utmost caution. There would be no causal anything going on with Danyal in this state. “Let me. Please hold them flat.” Damian says softening his tone, Danny going into his core wasn’t Richard’s fault nor was it the families. He didn’t want to take his frustration out on him when Damian knows his eldest brother is reeling at the transformation right alongside him. The soft tone makes Richard’s smile come a bit easier this time at Damian’s mother henning and Damian tries not to preen under the approval he can see in Richard’s dopey smile. Carefully he places Danyal in Richard’s hands, they close softly around Danyal in a protective cage. 

“He said he heals faster in this ‘core’?” It’s a silly question, but Damian nods watching Danny rest in Richard’s palms before sharply turning away to gather his things. He starts digging around for paper and a pen to make notes, folders for organizing the information, and his laptop before hunkering down. 

“Uh.. okay,” Richard’s confusion both amused him and had Damian ready to snap in frustration. Danny had spent his last moments in his body giving them information and it will not go to waste, not for a second. He carefully labels the folders with the names Danyal had given him, pointedly ignoring the crisis Richard seems to be going through next to him, before he turns on his laptop and starts his search with this ‘Jazz Fenton’. Danny didn’t give Vlad's last name but this woman has the knowledge, weapons, and shields the family will need to protect their youngest. Damian knows what loss is, knows this loss specifically, he is determined to never feel it dig his claws in again. 

Robin gets to work.

#daydreamsandcrashingwaves #ddcw.txt #dc x dp #danny and damian are twins #transference fic #hurt/comfort #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #Torture #old wounds #Touchstarved prompt #@scealaiscoite 's touch-starved prompts #evil cackling #ISTG i had the biggest grinch smile on my face writing this #Hope you enjoy as much as I did writing it!

[dross-the-fish]

I found myself thinking of Jekyll today and wondering if it causes him physical pain to have to fake a smile. To what extent is Henry Jekyll, pleasant doctor and sophisticated upperclass gentleman a painful mask he has to wear and does the discomfort ever feel physical?

I was at the local aquarium today (this is the perfect time of year to go because it's open but there are no tourists so it's never crowded and admission is cheap) hanging out and doodling on one of the benches while I watched the fish. I had on headphones to listen to an audio book and to provide a buffer between myself and anyone who might try to talk to me and I had been looking forward to relaxing for a couple of hours when a family walked up and the father waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention. The minute they started asking me questions about what I was drawing I was filled with what I can only describe as intense dismay.

Obviously the family being present isn't in of itself an issue, it's a public aquarium, it's aimed at families and parts of the aquarium are geared specifically at children, but the family noticed me drawing and stopped to talk to me.

I reiterate that this was not something they did wrong, they were just being friendly, but I was really not prepared to have a conversation and I found the whole ordeal to be...well an ordeal. They were interested in what I was drawing (a sketch of Henry Jekyll because he's been on my mind off and on) and just the thought of having to explain who this character was, hoping they got it, and having to potentially explain why I was drawing him felt overwhelming.

And it was, they did not know who Henry Jekyll was, they were vaguely aware of Jekyll and Hyde but weren't the type of people to read classic literature and had never heard of the musical or actually seen for themselves any movies featuring the character. The mom commented that he looks like "a Disney villain from back in the 90s" which...fair assessment, I can't pretend I don't see why she would have thought that. The older kid was probably the most interested and wanted to see more of my drawings which made me really uncomfortable but I let him look through my sketchbook anyway because his parents kept saying he was interested in drawing and he loves art and I felt too anxious to say no.

I made small talk with the parents for a while, all the usual, "what's your name, where you from, what's your job?" (I hate those questions, they are usually the least interesting things about any people, myself included) and I wondered if this is what Henry does on a regular day. Has ordinary conversations with reasonably nice people and feel completely like a fish out of water the whole time. I felt pretty terrible about it too, I didn't have any hard feelings or resentment but the whole time I was thinking "Stop touching my things, go away, please fucking leave so I can get back to my audio book and my drawing. I just wanted to sit with the fish for a few hours because it's supposed to be quiet here this time of year."

No one ever seems to catch on that physically talking to people is an effort for me. I've gone my whole life and no one has ever noticed that I'm anxious or uncomfortable in situations where I have to speak out loud because I've gotten good at faking small talk and I know how to make my voice sound pleasant.

It's strange because I express myself easily enough in writing and I like messaging with people over text but the minute I have to be verbal with people I don't know I feel like I'm putting on an immense effort. I have to consciously choose a tone, figure out what words I want to say, be ready with an explanation in case I'm asked questions and I have to do all of it in real time on the spot. It feels like improve, like I'm constantly doing an improve routine and I know most people would say "Just be yourself!" But myself doesn't want to be doing this at all. Myself wants to be drawing and looking at fish. Even as a child I was never very social, I liked to doodle or daydream or build with my lego sets. I got reprimanded a lot for being too quiet. So I made myself more talkative and learned how to hold conversations. I learned to blend in but it's so tiring at times and I can swear when it's at its worst it feels almost physical. The discomfort becomes a suffocating "texture" on my skin and in my brain and I have to keep pretending like I don't notice it because every time I try to articulate how I feel people don't understand it. It's just not a thing they experience.

So I just keep "acting normal," and wonder if there's something wrong with me, like I'm operating on a different frequency from the people around me and I'm the only one on that frequency so other people don't even know it exists. It's...incredibly isolating at times. Even my partner doesn't seem to hear the world as loud as I do or experience the "texture" it's just a strange THING that I'm stuck with by myself. I wonder if it was the same for Henry Jekyll? Except instead being of too quiet he was too loud, too boisterous, threw tantrums, didn't know when to stop rambling about anatomy and weird gross medical facts. So he learned how to cover it and move through life pretending to be interested in everyone else but keenly aware they could never share his interests because his favorite subjects were too grisly and if he started talking about diseases he'd put everyone off. I head-canon Jekyll loves what he does, but he doesn't love it for reasons a doctor should, he doesn't care that much about healing the sick, he cares about conquering illnesses, he likes to learn about symptoms, he enjoys the disgusting viscera of his work. But he can't let on that this is what he enjoys about his work because that's not noble or heroic, it's something most people would find creepy of him. So he buries it and pretends he cares about curing the sick. He pretends he enjoys talking to people who don't know anything about who he is or what he does but they think they do because they are aware of doctors and understand that medicine exists. All the time he loathes it, it exhausts him and he can't even indulge in activities he enjoys to blow of steam because he enjoys things like brawling, doing drugs, and fucking. All things a man of his status shouldn't be seen doing. There's an image people associate with Henry Jekyll and it's an image he can't afford to tarnish...

but it's not really HIS image, it's just a buffer he keeps up to make himself more palatable. I wonder if that ever hurts him physically, if the mask ever feels like a "texture" muffling him.

there are times when I feel like it's no wonder he wasn't repulsed by Hyde when he first saw his reflection. Because I can only imagine by the time Hyde showed up he was already completely burnt out on being Jekyll.

#kind of a vent #kind of headcanon talk #jekyll and Hyde ponderings

[moonsnqil]

Please talk about your thought process and all the details? 🥺

all of two people asked and i have a hard time shutting up SO the idea was after morning practice they decided to go to a diner to get breakfast but it's more a burgers and fries kinda deal. kevin is drinking black coffee bc it's the healthiest thing on the menu aside from water and he needs caffeine to stay awake for an afternoon class. neil is drinking water bc he's boring and i think andrew is drinking coca cola (it was almost a milkshake but i got lazy). i think andrew was eating waffles but he ripped apart the remnants bc it's andrew which is why his food looks like that. neil was the first to go for the crayons and start doodling but andrew got bored of just watching and joined in (can you spot the blue knife?) kevin felt left out and drew the little corner sun. they started tic tac toe and quit half way through when it was obvious it would be a tie. andrew is wearing a metallica shirt and neil is wearing a jaws shirt that he stole from andrew (i think aaron is actually the one who made neil watch the movie bc "seriously josten, you've never seen jaws? that's pathetic even by your standards"). kevin is going on about exy and everything they did wrong during practice, neil joins in but is more focused on his little paw doodles and andrew just tunes him out as per usual. i'd like to think this a diner they go to a lot and are semi regulars. that is my hc for the final piece but in the initial stages they were going to go to a sushi joint bc i got this idea at work and i work at a japanese restaurant so for half the process of drawing this neil was holding chopsticks but i drew the wrong background and was like "well guess we're eating american food now" but i didn't want to draw him holding a fork bc the hand placement is different so that's how they ended up with crayons. personally, i like the change. maybe they'll get sushi next time.

#i try so hard to be mysterious and vague online and then i start rambling #damn #anyway i hope you dont mind the mini essay #aftg #andreil

[thewulf]

Skies of Concern || Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Summary: Request -may i request for top gun maverick with husband!mickey 'fanboy' garcia x civillian maverick's daughter!reader please? when you heard that mav called mickey to join a mission, you kind of mad to your dad cause it is dangerous for mickey (worried)... Read Rest Here

A/N: Eeeeek! This one was fun to write. Super cute and fluffy. Memories are in italics. Hope you enjoy anon!

Pairing: Mickey Fanboy" Garcia x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.6k +

T/W : General TGM warnings

The sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden glow across the tarmac of the Naval Air Station as you waited for the aircraft carrier to arrive back on base. You stood near the water as the anticipation built with each passing minute. You were anxiously awaiting the return of your father, Maverick, and his trusted wingman and your beloved husband, Mickey Garcia.

But even in the middle of the tension and worry that gripped your heart your mind wandered back to a warmer memory. A moment of serendipity that had brought you into the orbit of the charismatic WSO who would later become your husband much to your fathers dismay. Although he eventually came around and loved Mickey as his own son.

It was a balmy evening at the Hard Deck as you waited for your father to return from a training mission. He’d asked you to meet him there against your better judgement. Although you didn’t frequent the bar that often anymore you had sought solace in the familiar surroundings of the bar, the chatter of fellow Navy personnel providing a comforting backdrop to your thoughts. As you nursed a drink at the counter trying to push aside the nagging worry that always accompanied your father's missions, you noticed him.

Mickey Garcia, with his effortless charm and magnetic presence strode into the bar. His flight suit a testament to the adrenaline-fueled world he inhabited. His gaze briefly met yours and in that fleeting moment, something sparked between you—a connection born in the anonymity of the crowded room. You should’ve run far, far away after the smirk grew on the pilot’s face. But you couldn’t. It’s like that one look had you rooted right into the bar stool.

Unbeknownst to Mickey he had just caught the eye of Maverick's daughter. You had planned to keep your identity hidden. More than content to observe from the shadows as he approached with a casual confidence that belied the danger of his profession.

"Hey there," he greeted you. His smile as warm as the fading sunlight outside. "Haven't seen you around here before. I’d remember a pretty face like yours. You can’t be a regular, no?"

His words were laced with genuine curiosity with a playful demeanor drawing you in despite the weight of your worries. Little did you know that chance encounter would set the stage for a journey fraught with danger and adventure but so much love. Oh, so much love.

As Mickey leaned casually against the bar with that signature mischievous twinkle in his eyes you couldn't help but return his flirtatious banter. "Well,” you replied with a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Maybe I like to keep things interesting. You never know when a new face might turn up." He was right. You often avoided the Hard Dec as it was your father and Penny’s spot.

Mickey chuckled. The sweet sound sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I like the way you think," he said. His gaze lingering on you with unmistakable interest. "Name's Mickey, by the way. Mickey Garcia." You nodded. You knew that. Hell, you knew most of your dads pilots even if you hadn’t formally met them. But you had to play dumb to keep up your charade.

You extended your hand. A coy smile playing on your lips. "Nice to meet you, Mickey. I'm... just a girl trying to enjoy her night."

His handshake was firm, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Well, just a girl, if you ever need someone to show you around this place… you know who to call," he spoke with a confidence only pilots seemed to have.

Before you could respond to him the familiar sound of your fathers voice cut through the air, drawing your attention to the entrance of the bar. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched your father stride in. He looked to be in one piece. Your concern washed away in an instant. His presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room. When he spotted you chatting with one of his pilots at the bar he made a beeline right to you with a less than thrilled look on his face.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Your dad greeted you. His voice was warm with affection as he pulled you into a quick hug. "You holding up okay?"

You nodded. A small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into his embrace. "Yeah, Dad," you replied oh so grateful for the familiar strength of his arms around you. "Just glad to see you back in one piece."

But as Pete pulled away his gaze fell on Mickey, and you felt a knot of tension coil in the pit of your stomach. There was a shift in the air. A subtle change in your dads demeanor that set your heart racing with apprehension.

"Fanboy," Maverick spoke with an icy tone as he turned his attention to the charming pilot beside you. "Fancy seeing you here."

Mickey's easy grin faltered and was replaced by a look of uncertainty as he met Maverick's gaze. "Hey, Maverick," he replied. His voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Didn't expect to run into you here. You’re not usually here after missions."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them. The air thick with unspoken tension as Maverick's gaze bore into Mickey with an intensity that made you squirm in your barstool. Finally, Pete spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "No funny business with my daughter, Garcia," he said. His words a thinly veiled warning. "Or you'll answer to me."

Mickey swallowed hard. The weight of Maverick's stare bearing down on him like a leaden weight. "Yes, sir," he replied. His voice was barely above a whisper as he nodded in silent acquiescence.

And as Maverick turned away with his arm slipping around your shoulders in a protective gesture. You couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for you with Mickey. The chemistry between the two of you was something you’d never experienced before. There had to be something more. You felt caught between the love of a father and the allure of the skies.

It had been years since that fateful meeting at the Hard Deck, years filled with adventure, love, and the occasional heart-stopping moment as you watched your husband and father take to the skies together. But through it all you had remained steadfast in your support for both of them.

As you stood there the memories of that first encounter with Mickey came flooding back. A bittersweet reminder of how far you had come since that chance meeting. Now, as you awaited their return, your heart swelled with a mixture of pride and worry. You knew all too well the dangers that lurked beyond the clouds. But despite the nagging fear that gnawed at your insides you refused to let it consume you. You had learned to trust in Mickey's skill and your dads experience.

Your thoughts then took to earlier on in the week when you father broke the news he was taking your now husband with him to go fly a mission in Russia. He couldn’t tell you the details, but you knew it was going to be risky. Anything overseas always was. A pit formed in your stomach at the thought of the two most important guys in your life putting their lives in danger once again.

Unable to contain your fears any longer you turned to your father with a pleading look in your eyes. "Dad, you can't do this," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You can't take Mickey on this mission. It's too dangerous dad!"

Maverick's expression hardened. His jaw tightening as he met your gaze with a steely resolve. "I have to, sweetheart," he replied with a sorrowful look as his voice firm but tinged with regret. "We're the best chance they've got and Mickey's one of the best damn WSO’s I know."

You shook your head. The frustration and fear bubbling up inside you like a tempest ready to burst. "But it's not fair," you cried out as the words tumbled out in a rush. "Both of you don’t need to go. How about just you? Or him? Not both of you! I can't take it dad. Please" You knew the pleading would likely fall on deaf ears, but you had to try.

Your voice cracked with emotion. Tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of your fear threatened to crush you. You had spent countless nights lying awake dreading this exact moment when the call would come. One that summoned your father and husband into the heart of danger once again but farther away than you thought possible.

This time felt different, the stakes higher than ever before. And as you stood there with anger and despair boiling over inside you, you knew that you couldn't bear the thought of losing them both, not now, not ever.

Maverick's expression softened. A rare flicker of sympathy crossing his features as he reached out to pull you into a comforting embrace. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice gentle against your ear. "But we have a job to do, and we'll come back to you, I promise."

You clung to him like a scared five-year-old but you really couldn’t care. You were terrified. The weight of his words offering a sliver of solace amidst the storm of uncertainty you prayed with all your heart that his promise would hold true. That both your father and husband would return to you unscathed once more.

The anticipation was palpable as you stood on the base. Your eyes fixed on the horizon where the carrier would soon appear. It had been over a week since you last saw your husband, and your father depart on their mission. Each moment of their absence had felt like an eternity.

But now as the massive silhouette of the carrier emerged from the vast expanse of the ocean your heart leaped with relief. They were back. They were safe. You knew it because you hadn't received that dreaded call. The one that brought news of tragedy and loss. Still, despite the reassurance a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach as you waited for them to disembark. You couldn't shake the lingering worry, the fear of the unknown that had plagued you since the moment they left.

And then, finally, the gangplank descended, and a surge of relief washed over you as you caught sight of familiar figures making their way down onto the dock. Your heart raced as you scanned the crowd searching for the faces you longed to see.

And there they were.

Your father emerged first with his iconic aviator shades shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. Beside him, Mickey walked with a confident stride. His tattered flight suit a testament to the adventure they had just returned from.

Without a second thought you rushed forward ignoring the protests from the officers guarding the walkway. Your heart pounded with a mixture of joy and apprehension. They were here. They were safe. But still you needed to see them with your own eyes. To feel the reassuring warmth of their embrace. His embrace. Your husband and beloved.

Without hesitation you rushed forward to you husband. Your arms outstretched as you leaped into his embrace wrapping your legs around his waist. "Babe!" you exclaimed while happily peppering his cheeks with kisses. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you? I missed you so much! Don’t go for that long again, please." Your eyes scanned his frame for any sign of distress.

Mickey laughed while wrapping his arms tightly around you and returning your kisses with equal fervor. "I'm fine, honey," he reassured you, his voice filled with affection. "Not a scratch on me. I missed you more than you know pretty lady." He gave you a squeeze as he held you in his arms as the both of you ignored the bewildered captain beside you.

Your attention wholly focused on the man holding you in his strong arms. But when you finally pulled back you couldn't help but notice the grin spreading across your fathers face as he watched the reunion between his daughter and son-in-law.

"Looks like someone's glad to see her husband and not so much her old man," he remarked with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

You flushed with embarrassment realizing you had been so caught up in your reunion with Mickey that you had all but forgotten all about your father. But as you glanced back at him you found nothing but warmth and understanding in his expression.

"Sorry, Dad," you said sheepishly. "I was just... really glad to see Mickey. It’s good to see you too." As you attempted to slip down from Mickey's hold expecting to stand on your own feet again, you felt him tighten his grip around you. He wasn't willing to let you go just yet and a warm sense of contentment washed over you as you remained enveloped in his embrace.

Maverick chuckled. His eyes had a knowing amusement in them as he watched the scene unfold. "I can see that," he replied. His voice tinged with pride. "I see I’ve officially been replaced."

You grinned with your cheeks flushing with affectionate embarrassment at your father's teasing remark. "Well, Dad," you spoke playfully jabbing his shoulder from Mickey’s hold. "I think there's enough love to go around for both of you."

Pete laughed. "I suppose so," His voice filled with warmth as he spoke. "Just don't forget who taught him everything he knows."

You smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for the two most important men in your life. "I could never forget.”

As Maverick chuckled, shaking his head, and walked away he left just the two of you there to continue on. Mickey still held you close in his arms. His embrace filled with a longing that mirrored your own. With Pete out of sight he seemed to pull you even closer. His touch igniting that usual fire within you.

Feeling his warmth enveloping you, you melted into his embrace. Your body fitting perfectly against his. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss. A silent declaration of his desire and his longing for you. The kiss deepened becoming more passionate as if he couldn't get enough of you after being apart for too long.

When he finally pulled back his breath came out in ragged gasps. He pressed his forehead against yours with eyes dark full of desire. "God, I missed you," he murmured. His voice husky with emotion. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he winked suggestively. His lips curling into a playful grin. And as you stood there wrapped in his embrace surrounded by the sights, and sounds of the base, you knew that the reunion you had been longing for was just beginning.

With a shared smirk Mickey held you a as tight as he could without squeezing you completely. His gaze was filled with promises of the passion to come. "Let's get out of here my love," he whispered. His voice low and intimate. "I want to show you just how much I missed you." The earned a giggle out of you as you knew he meant business when it came to that look.

And with that he carried you effortlessly towards your car. Each step filled with anticipation and desire. With a thrill of excitement coursing through you, you knew that the night ahead held endless possibilities. And you couldn't wait to explore them all with the man you loved.

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[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica

Story Event: I want to steal you

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Are you trying to be considerate, sir? Perish the thought. If only I had time to draw and depict Kate tiptoeing behind Al, holding the hem of his coat. 🤭

~~Part 1~~

Kate: "It doesn't have to be your hand... Can I hold the hem of your clothes?"

(I'm definitely going to be teased...)

Alfons: "Please, go ahead. Do as you wish."

Surprised by the unexpected words, I raised my eyes and saw him looking at me with a gentle expression on his face.

Alfons: "Did you get a little startled just now?"

Alfons: "You can grab anywhere you like, not just the hem. Here you are."

Kate: "Mhm, this will do. Thank you."

Alfons: "Is that so? You're too modest. You should try to be more selfish."

He continued acting flippant as usual, but --

(What...?)

(Is he perhaps trying to match his walking pace to mine?)

Insolent and dishonest - nightmare of a guy. If that was all, I should have just kept my distance.

(But he won't let me do that. It's not fair...)

I was still pondering over this when our search for stolen goods began.

Alfons: "Oh dear, there's so much stuff. It's like Lord El's room."

(This is what Elbert's room looks like..?)

Surrounded by darkness, it was comforting to fill the silence with trivial conversation.

To hide the fear that was creeping inside me, I said the first thing that came to my mind.

Kate: "Oh, come to think of it, Liam told me before --"

Kate: "That you often go out together in the middle of the night."

Kate: "What on earth are you two doing?"

~~Part 2~~

Alfons: "Are you curious about Liam? Or me?"

(Since you're trying to tease me like that right away...)

Kate: "As a fairytale writer, I want to know about both of you."

Alfons: "That's an extremely boring, convenient answer. Well, it's fine I guess..."

Alfons: "Liam has to satisfy his curiosity on a regular basis because of the curse."

Alfons: "As for me, being a hedonist and a fun lover, our interests coincide..."

Alfons: "Before we knew it, we were playing around together, looking for ways to satisfy our needs."

Kate: "Curiosity, huh..."

Alfons: "Yes, jumping from roof to roof while drunk in a game where if you fall, you're out."

Alfons: "Then there's ... a chicken race, where you ride your horse to the very edge of a cliff."

Kate: "I had a hunch of what it might entail, but it went way beyond that..."

Alfons: "I'm glad to see I've exceeded your expectations."

Alfons: "There are also things that shouldn't be shared with others. Oh, would you like to accompany me sometime?"

Kate: ".... regretfully, I must decline."

Alfons: "Oh, well, that's a shame."

With a chuckle, he picked up a dusty marble lying at his feet.

Kate: "...?"

~~Part 3~~

When Alfons held it up, the marble glowed faintly.

Alfons: "That man needs to forget reality."

Alfons: "You're starting to realise that, aren't you?"

Kate: "... Yes. Somehow."

Liam's curiosity wasn't just due to his curse.

He was always the first to come to me when I was having a hard time or feeling sad.

He generously offered me his time and tried to make me feel at ease.

Just as someone could understand people's suffering because they've been hurt before,

I was sure Liam knew a lot of pain and sorrow.

That's why, in order to breathe, he was forced to colour his dark and gloomy existence with curiosity and excitement.

At that moment, I remembered the words Alfons had casually uttered to me before.

(That was the first time when he used his ability to `change one's perception` on me)

*flashback starts*

Alfons: "Life is a tragedy. The painful reality is that even if you struggle, you can't change it."

Alfons: "Then what's wrong with escaping into a dream?"

*flashback ends*

(I didn't think about the meaning of his words at the time, confused by the fact I was being toyed with)

Yet those words lingered in my heart ever since.

Alfons was a fun-loving hedonist who enjoyed showing people illusions.

But now he told me that while spending time with Liam, he realized there was something this man desperately wanted to forget.

(In a way, this seems like a good idea. Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself)

(What if Alfons...)

(What if he's showing illusions to various people in order to escape his own painful reality?)

Suddenly we heard a noise from the end of the corridor and looked at each other.

Kate: "... Is it the culprit?"

Alfons: "Hmm, I wonder. Kate, stay behind me."

We walked down the hallway towards the source of the noise -- only to find someone we weren't expecting.

~~Part 4~~

Old man: "...Who are you people?"

Nestled in a deep armchair was an elderly grey-haired man.

(Could this be the culprit? I can't imagine it)

It was as if the building recognized him as its master, the way he blended in with his surroundings.

Alfons: "My cat wandered in. I sincerely apologize for trespassing on your property."

Old man: "Oh yeah? I thought you were the bunch of idiots who had once again come here uninvited."

Alfons: "`Again`... you say?"

Old man: "Lately, a group of men have been sneaking in at night."

Old man: "They take advantage of empty rooms and turned the house into their hangout."

(I wonder... why did they leave this old man alive?)

The man lived here alone and most likely given up on stopping the criminals from using the property without permission.

His presence posed a threat to them.

If by some chance the rumours reached the police, they would raid this place... and that would be the end of the story.

It was hard to believe that people who committed murder to steal something of value hesitated to kill.

Old man: "...Oh, I'm sorry. I got carried away with my guests and neglected you."

(Huh? Is there anyone else in this room?)

I looked around but, as far as I could see, only the three of us were present there.

Soon, I realised that he was talking to a portrait of a woman placed next to him.

Old man: "Will you forgive me? Yes, you've always liked guests."

As I stood there perplexed, Alfons whispered softly in my ear.

Alfons: "…Ah, I see. The culprits must have decided that it'd be more troublesome to kill someone who wasn't in their right mind."

Alfons: "What do you think we should do with this man, Kate?"

Kate: "What do you mean...?"

Alfons: "With my ability, I may be able to wake him up from the dream he's having."

Alfons: "This way we will gain his testimony and our mission will become easier."

We didn't know what the man sitting in front of us could see.

But the expression on his face as he gazed at the painting was one of happiness...

Kate: "I --."

~~Part 5~~

In the end, we seized the stolen goods as evidence and decided to carry out the sentence at a later date.

In a way that would not cause any harm to the man living in the house.

Alfons: "Why didn't you bring him out of his dream into reality?"

At that time, I asked Alfons to leave things as they were.

Kate: "That man needed a dream to live, and... I didn't see anything wrong with that."

Kate: "Regardless of whether the dream was convenient or not."

Kate: "Besides..."

Kate: "I thought that's what you'd have done."

Alfons: "...."

The moment I finished saying that, Alfons grabbed me and pulled me to his chest.

The sound of gunfire echoed near my ears, and potted plants strewn across the garden were shattered by bullets.

(What...?)

Man with a stubble: "...so, you decided to enter our place uninvited?"

The man's gaze was fixed on the stolen goods we had confiscated.

(This man is one of the culprits...)

Man with a stubble: "I can't let you live now that you've seen too much... go to hell!"

Alfons: "Now, now. Aren't you the one who's trespassing in this house?"

Alfons immediately rushed behind the man and twisted his neck, knocking him out in the blink of an eye.

Alfons: "Oops, I guess I forgot to mention we were his fellow trespassers."

Alfons: "Shall we make him our prized `confiscated item`?"

~~~

Having secured the stolen goods, we walked through the city at night.

(Ah...)

Only then did I realise that my hands were shaking slightly.

--- The sound of gunshots in my ears was enough to remind me of the scene from last night I was trying to forget.

(...I hate it. I want to forget last night and the fear that remains in my heart)

(I don't want to be held in its grasp forever)

As I clenched my hands so that no one would notice my distress, I felt Alfons tap me on the shoulder.

Alfons: "Kate, Kate. Do you have a little more time to spare?"

Kate: "...? Yes, I don't have anything planned for tonight..."

Alfons: "Splendid. Then I'd like you to stay with me for a while longer."

Kate: "Eh...?"

Alfons: "Since Liam is not around, I don't want to waste this rare opportunity to do all sorts of shameless, dirty things to you."

Alfons: "Now that our mission is complete, let's extend our date. It's going to be a fun, fun night, am I right?"

Chapter 3 Premium

#ikemen villains #ikevil #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons #ikevil story event #fan translation

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Lost It All But Found You

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Prompt - “What do you miss most? About life before all of this.”

You were already in bed by the time Joel came back from his shift and didn’t bother opening your eyes as you heard him close and lock the door before quietly walking over to the bed to press a gentle kiss just above your eyebrow. He was quiet as he shut the bathroom door and a few minutes later you heard the shower running, you knew he had been on body burning duty, the job everybody hated getting but paid well.

You let your mind wander whilst Joel showered, a dangerous thing to do most days but especially today when you, even twenty years after the outbreak, were feeling the effects of everything. Some days were fine, they were easy and it felt like you had accepted that this was how the world was now. Those days were great, you liked your little apartment, didn’t mind that you couldn’t leave the walls, you didn’t mind going to work. It was nice to pretend, especially when in those moments it didn’t feel like pretending.

Then there were days like today. Days where you struggled to drag yourself out of bed, hours after Joel had left for his shift. This morning was hard, you felt like your body was being weighed down by the weight of the thousand questions you had that would never be answered, questions of what had become of the people you loved, questions of what if’s and how could this happen. Days like today the world didn’t feel real, it felt like a dream that you would wake up from but you never did. Eventually you pulled yourself from the bed and went to work, on these days your body was on autopilot, you didn’t remember getting ready for work, you hardly remembered being at your job but the repetitiveness of it made it easy. The whole time you worked you weren’t really there, instead you were deep in your head.

It had been twenty years since the world went to hell. Twenty years was a long time, twenty years of questions swarming your head until you felt like you were drowning. How had this become your life? The world had ended and here you were sweeping the streets like it was a regular old day.

You hated it.

Being inside the walls on days like this felt suffocating and you longed to go outside. Joel went out sometimes but he never took you, always said his runs were too dangerous and you didn’t doubt it but a part of you would always long to see the outside of those walls again. The thought of being within the walls until you died made your skin crawl, trapped from the outside world because there wasn’t a cure for this virus, there would never be a cure.

That thought always consumed you with anxiety, turned your blood cold and you had stopping to force yourself to breathe, to push past the tingles in your hands and calm down. Sometimes you could handle it alone but most times it ended with you sitting with your back pressed to the wall and Joel walking in on you, moving over to sit besind you as he pulled you into his arms, his fingers running groundingly up and down your back until it was easier to breathe.

Today you had at least managed to make it to your bed before the anxiety became too much and ever since you had been in an almost paralysed state of staring at the wall in front of you until your eyes were too heavy to stay open and they fell shut though you couldn’t fall asleep no matter how drained your body felt.

You had been so focused on your own thoughts that you didn’t hear the shower shut off or Joel moving around the room as he changed into something comfortable before climbing into the bed behind you.

Joel felt you jump slightly as his arm slid around you, your head turning to look up at him with a confused look before you blinked several times and seemed to register it was just him. He pulled you closer so your back was flush against his chest, his arms around your waist and fingers drawing shapeless patterns into your skin. Slowly he felt you beginning to relax into his touch, not fully out of your head but enough that you could focus on the things that were real.

Joel pressed a kiss to your head and let his lips rest against your hair, smiling softly as your hands came to rest on his arms, your fingers coming to mess with the watch that had sat on his wrist for twenty years.

When you were like this it was easy for Joel to get lost in his own head with you but he always shoved his own thoughts down, it wouldn’t do well to have the pair of you out of your minds with grief.

Joel didn’t say anything, there were never any words to say when you were having a bad day because everything you were thinking was true, every bad thing you thought about the world was right. Joel knew how hard it was to carry the questions that were swimming around in your head because he carried his own questions, felt the weight of them every day.

So instead he did what he could do, he could hold you close to him, he could make sure you didn’t get too lost in your head, made sure you had his touch to ground you back to reality. He would be there for you in ways he knew he could. Most of the time when you had a bad day you tended to not want to speak anyway, sometimes you wanted to hear Joel speak, it didn’t matter what he said but sometimes you just needed more than his touch to help you find your way back. There was the rare occasion, it hadn’t happened more than a handful of times in the many years he’d known you, where you wanted to talk about what was happening in your head.

Today seemed to be one of those rare days.

“I don’t remember what my family even looked like.” You whispered, voice cracking as tears slipped down your cheeks and Joel felt his heart break, he knew what you meant.

Twenty years was a long time, so much happened and things became harder to remember. The sound of somebody’s laugh, the way their voice sounded when they were happy, the way somebody’s hair fell into their face or how they smiled. You could remember the song somebody sang in the morning, could recite all the words to it but couldn’t ever remember how they sounded when they sang it.

“I wonder about them all the time, did they survive, are they out there somewhere? Some part of me hopes they are but then another part of me, the part that’s tired, hopes that whatever happened that they’re at peace.” You said, keeping your voice low as you spoke and focused on the feel of Joel’s fingers through your shirt.

“I’m sorry.” Joel whispered into your hair and you laughed quietly though it came out as more of a sob really.

“You know what the most bittersweet thing is about this whole thing?” You asked, turning in Joel’s arms so you were facing him now, “I got to meet you, it took the world going to shit for us to meet. You are the best thing in my life, before the outbreak and after, you’re the best person I know.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel murmured as he kissed your forehead. “I love you so damn much, just hate that it took losing everything else to get here. In another life, baby, God, baby I promise in another life everything would be different, you’d never be scared again.”

“What do you miss most?” You asked him and it was a question that made him pause, not because he didn’t know the answer, God he knew the answer straight away, it was something that stuck with him every day of his life. “About life before all of this.”

He had never told you about Sarah, he didn’t know why he hadn’t but he had never spoken about her. Maybe it was because it was still too raw, too painful. Twenty years had gone since she was taken from him and it still felt like yesterday. You spoke about not being able to remember your family but some days Joel would do anything to get the image of his daughter shot, bleeding and dying in his arms out of his head.

“My daughter.” Joel said quietly and watched you pull away from him as you stared up at him in shock, your eyes were still watery as tears stained your cheeks. “I miss my daughter.”

“Joel-” You breathed out, no words coming to you and Joel couldn’t help but smile down at you as he reached a hand up to brush away the tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Her name was Sarah.” He told you and his smile widened as he watched you mouth her name to yourself. “She was just a kid, twelve, and the best thing I have ever done with my life.”

“You’ve never told me about her.” You said, not prying for anything else but giving him the opening to share her with you if he wanted.

And he did. He wanted to share his life before the outbreak with you. He wanted you to know Sarah, wanted you to love her like he did because she was his whole world. Even twenty years later when so many of the memories he had with her had become foggy he never lost that overwhelming feeling of love.

“That kid- let me tell you if anyone was gonna call me out on my bullshit it was Sarah. The day the world went to hell it was my birthday and she called me right out for not being home on time, for forgetting the cake. Sarah matched me without ever missing a beat, the two of us could go back and forth all day long” Joel chuckled to himself and you smiled over at him, your full attention on him and he paused to kiss your forehead again. “Kid was more athletic than I ever was, she was on the soccer team, God knows how but I still remember her out on the field, still remember she was number 14. She was brilliant, so many awards that we didn’t know what to do with ‘em.”

“She sounds amazing.” You said softly and Joel grinned down at you even as his eyes shined with tears.

“Yeah, yeah she was.” Joel nodded and took a breath, “me and her used to go hiking together, just the two of us out for hours. I don’t even know what we talked about, can’t remember but I know she laughed, I know she loved going. Most kids her age got embarrassed spending so much time with their folks but not Sarah, hell she was always looking for more time for us to do things together.”

“She knew her dad was a special, smart kid.” You told him with a smile and he chuckled wetly.

“Some army asshole, the day the outbreak happened, it was just me and her, he could see we weren’t sick- Sarah hurt her ankle in the accident and I was carrying her but he could see we were fine and this asshole shoots at us. I tried to protect her but…she died in my arms and I couldn’t do anything.” Joel told you and you felt your own eyes well with tears again but you pushed them back as you pulled Joel into you, holding him against you as you murmured soft words of comfort.

“I’m so, so sorry Joel.” You felt your neck wet with his tears as he cuddled into you but you also felt him smile before he pressed a kiss to your skin. “I’m really glad you told me about her.”

“Me too, baby.” He murmured and you ran your hands through his hair. “She was my whole world, that’s what I miss the most from before.”

The two of you held each other, both of your minds filled with what had been lost, what could never be, thoughts of another life where you had met, where you knew each other's families…you had both lost so much and sometimes that pain was easy to get lost in but, through all that pain and suffering, you had also found each other, had found a love neither of you had thought possible, had found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with even if it was this version of a future that nobody had seen coming.

You and Joel were each other's anchor, making sure you stayed afloat when it was so easy to give up. This new world might have taken everything from you but it had also given you Joel and it was bittersweet but you were grateful to have found him, you weren’t sure either of you would have made it this far without the other.

__________

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[thelittlewriter]

Silent Wounds

Pairing : Shigaraki x Reader

Next Part

There was something wrong with the man you had been treating. He always came to your clinic badly hurt, only asked for a few band-aids and would leave after a little conversation. He acted like a young man but his face was wrinkled. You didn't know if it was due to age, exhaustion, his quirk or all of that at the same time.

You weren't a real doctor, you just knew one at a young age, and he taught you everything he knew. The "clinic" was simply a room in your apartment. It didn't matter whether you were a true doctor or not, you were the only one who treated them without asking questions or asking for money. Nobody else would treat villains like this. Like they were humans.

You hated the hero society. It made people irresponsible, always waiting for heroes to handle things anybody could. You knew that villains were more than thieves, murderers. They were more than just a danger to society. They had stories, they might have had a hard time that led them to have this life. You knew that heroes wouldn't be able to reach them so you thought that maybe you could.

You, the ordinary civilians who happened to have medical skills and a bit of free time.

"What is it ?" the man in front of you asked.

Shigaraki Tomura. That's how he told you was called. You thought that maybe he was lying. A lot of people didn't want to give you their name because it made them vulnerable. He was pointing at a pile of papers in a corner of the room.

"Just stuff I study," you answered.

Having a conversation with him was virtually impossible, as he didn't seem like the talkative type. Maybe he was with other people. Did he even have other people ? It really didn't look like it. You suspected he came here to eat rather than to have his wounds treated. Since the first time you offered him a slice of cake, he often came by. Sometimes he was just pretending to be hurt. You noticed but you didn't say anything.

"Med school ?" he asked.

"Art," you reply. "If I ever become a real doctor, it'll be hard for me to treat people like you."

He hummed. While he never bore any expression on his face, you could tell that he was somehow enjoying his time with you. Or else he wouldn't be coming back, right ?

Strangely enough, you wanted to know more about this man.

"When do villains sleep ?" you asked.

He looked up at you, silently.

"Well, you do your villain activities during the day and sometimes at night, and you also come here at night. So when do you sleep ?"

He shrugged.

"I usually sleep at dawn."

You suddenly heard someone knock on the front door. You sat up and suddenly stretched your arms. You were holding your neck. Looking at you like that, he could see how exhausted you were. He wondered... if you had to go to class during the day and help them at night, when did you sleep ?

"I'll be right back," you said.

He sat up immediately.

"I should go," he said.

You saw him walk away and tried to grab him by the hand. As he felt you touch him, he stumbled away screaming :

"Watch out !"

You took a step back too. You remembered that he didn't seem to like being touched. You apologized to him.

"Please stay here at least to finish your slice of cake."

He looked away. You didn't know what he was thinking. You only knew what he was willing to tell you, and it was almost nothing. You didn't even know what crimes he had committed to be coming to you instead of a regular hospital.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," you said as you walked to the front door. You closed the curtain behind you, to hide his presence from the people you would welcome. Villains tended to be jumpy if they knew someone else was there and Tomura was always silent anyway. Nobody would know.

You opened the door. Two men got into your apartment. One of them had blood of his shoulder, clearly from a cut. As always, you wondered what happened. As always, you didn't ask. You sat the injured man and turned over to look for what you needed. When you opened the drawer, you felt something cold touching your neck.

"Don't move," the villain said.

You obeyed. It wasn't the first time villains were robbing you.

"Please," you said, but without any conviction.

It used to happen all the time when you started. With time, they understood it wasn't gonna benefit them long term and they stopped. Those men clearly didn't get the memo.

You sighed. All your meds were stolen. You had stolen them. It was easy to replace one box when you had given it to someone. Replacing everything would definitely be harder. It would be harder for you not to get caught. One box missing is a mistake, twenty is suspect. You might had to close for a few weeks. You couldn't have that.

You turned around slowly.

"If you move, I'll kill you."

You watched as the other man was putting all sort of stuff into his bag.

"Please don't take everything," you asked again.

The man hit you in the face. You fell down, knocking the chair. Your cheek was hot, like burning. You couldn't defend yourself.

You heard the curtain open. You looked behind the robbers. He was like a shadow. You barely saw him coming. But then, you saw one man disappear. Only ashes were left. You looked at him doing the same to the other man.

Strangely, knowing he killed those man wasn't terrifying. The most terrifying was how wide his smile was while doing it.

Tomura.

You wanted to call his name. But deep down, you knew. And he did too when he saw your eyes. You didn't move, you didn't speak. But he could see that you were scared of him.

It hurt.

He didn't really know you but he enjoyed being with you. He knew you knew it too, and it felt like you were accepting him. He was a villain. The two of you were from two different worlds. But he loved how you made him feel... human.

You were something he wanted to protect. Someone he wanted to love. He thought it might be possible. It was a foolish dream. One that would never come true.

He saw that in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," he just said when he left.

Hey ! It's a little bit sad but not too much so I hope you liked it ! I'm thinking about doing a part 2 but maybe a little bit later... have a great today too !!!

#mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha fic #mha imagines #mha fluff #mha angst #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki angst #bnha shigaraki #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha angst #bnha fic

[enchanting-eloquence]

Competition part 2 (Bradley Bradshaw)

Summary: You and Rooster have been dating for a little while when he invites you to visit him on base. But it’s only part with through your hot reunion that you realise the couple next door had the same idea. Pure. Smut. (Shock!)

3.2k words

Author notes: Thank you so much for reading! All comments, likes or shares would be massively well received, thank you! This is my first time writing for Rooster so… see what you think? Also, now some part of my sick brain really wants to write a part three, but can’t decide which way that would go. This also hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for any mistakes!

Warnings: Porn with a little plot, minors do not engage there is nothing for you here! Voyeurism, bad language, unprotected sex (be safe kids!), fingering, oral, m/f sex, some degradation. Tell me if I've missed anything.

Part 1 here

Competition part 2

Family day. It seemed like a weird place to be for a guy you’d only been out with a handful of times. But growing up on the island you’d always wanted to see inside the legendary Top Gun, so when Rooster interspersed your regular flirtatious texts with an invitation, who were you to turn it down? But now, as you stood there alone amidst a sea of families and partners making small talk with one another, you felt more than a little out of place.

Until he walked through the door, taller than you remembered, broad shoulders filling out the khaki uniform even better than those Hawaiian shirts he insisted on wearing. You knew the moment he spotted you, his eyes narrowing as they travelled down your body and back up again while he strode purposefully towards you.

He planted a kiss on your cheek and leaned into your ear. “Fuck kitten, did you get hotter?”

His hand came to your waist as he spoke, pulling you in until you felt his warm, tight body press against yours. You bit back a whimper, even as he stepped back and took his place next to you, his fingers beginning to draw teasing circles under the hem of your shirt while you struggled to concentrate.

When the speech was over, he dipped his head to your ear. “What do you say we have a private tour before the day gets started?” You simply nodded, not trusting your voice, and before you knew it, he was leading you by the hand through the crowd of people and down an official looking corridor.

Rooster had always made your time together exciting. But this? Having him drag you at top speed through the base as though getting you alone was a matter of national security? It was enough to have heat gathering between your legs even while you walked.

Reaching a door numbered 22, Rooster pulled you into a sparsely furnished bedroom that smelled strongly of the lime shower gel you knew he favoured. He locked the door behind him and took three steps towards you, licking his lips as he reached out to toy with the buttons on your shirt.

“Thought I’d wear your favourite.” You murmured, your low voice sounding much more confident than you felt.

Brow furrowed in concentration as his deep brown eyes met yours, he drew a finger up your stomach.

“You forgot they’re my favourite because I like to tear the buttons off. Guess I can’t do that today, huh?”

You grinned and pushed him towards the bed. “Definitely not lieutenant Bradshaw, can’t have anyone think I’ve been fucking you in here like some navy slut, can we?”

Rooster bit back a growl and looked down at you with a smirk, porn star moustache dancing on his top lip. “Babe, what I’m planning to do with you they won’t need to think it, they’ll be able to hear it.”

In a second he was on the bed, the wood of it thudding against the wall hard enough to make you giggle. It was only a moment though before he was pulling you into his lap, forcing his thigh between your legs hard enough to elicit a moan. The two of you were a red-hot tangle of fingers and lips, kissing as though it was the only way to breathe and clawing at each other’s shirts and belts in your desperation to touch more bare flesh. Things between you were still new enough that physical contact felt thrilling, and after three weeks of nothing but text sex there was a fire inside you both desperate to be quelled.

Your shirt falling loose, Rooster groaned and reached out to grab your breasts in his big hands, rubbing the calloused skin against your nipples until they began to harden through the fabric of your bra. As his touch deepened, he shifted beneath you, his thigh pressing harder and finding you ready, wet and waiting as you arched your back and moaned.

“Wet for me already kitten?”

You moved your mouth back to his, sinking your teeth into his lower lip as you snuck a hand down to his crotch and into his pants.

“Hard for me already Roos?”

He groaned. “Been hard for you all week babe, thinking of the last time I saw you.”

You grinned at the memory of the first time he’d stayed at your place, and lifted just far enough to tug his thick, hard cock from inside his trousers. “That fucking desperate for me huh?”

Never taking your eyes from his, you stood, removing your own pants and underwear completely before moving back down again. Staring steadily at him, you brought one finger to his tip, swiping away the drop of pre-cum that had already begun to form there before bringing it up to your mouth and sucking deeply.

“And so dirty for me.” He whispered, as you lifted yourself higher on your legs and stared questioningly into his eyes.

Rooster nodded, and gripped your hips, pulling you forward until your entrance was positioned right above his tip. He stared down at his own cock as your hand moved steadily up and down it. “I’m ready when you are babe.”

With a deep breath you lowered yourself down on him, taking it slowly as you allowed him to stretch out your your pussy. His fingers tightened, but he didn’t force, only allowed you to keep moving slowly - painfully slowly - and then pause for a moment once he was balls deep within you.

After a second, you fisted your hand in his short brown curls and pulled his face to yours, kissing him as you began to bounce on his cock.

Rooster gasped and thrust back up to meet you with every bounce, your tongues dancing together as he ground into the deepest and most sensitive parts of you, making you clench around him.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, arching his back away from you to deepen the angle as the two of you continued to move together in a heady mix of whispered curses and squeaking bedsprings.

“So tight,” he hissed, nails digging into your thighs. “So fucking tight for me.”

“Been waiting for you Rooster, waiting for you to get back and fill me up.”

He groaned softly and let out a gentle laugh. “That’s gonna happen far too soon if you don’t stop kitten. Let me make you feel good huh?”

Before you could respond he’d lifted you and flipped you onto your back, pressing his hand between your legs as he began to kiss your neck. You murmured softly, only to jolt when you heard a female voice respond.

Rooster obviously heard it too. His face lifting up to stare at the wall beside you as the voice became louder.

“Jake. So good. Fuck.”

“What the fuck?” You asked quietly.

In response he only chuckled. “I’d say Hangman’s having a reunion of his own…”

Next door, the woman screamed and your eyes widened. “Sounds like their reunion’s going very well.”

“Oh and ours isn’t?” Rooster asked, a laugh dancing in his eyes.

You shrugged. “All I’m saying is that you haven’t made me scream like that?”

This time it was his teeth that came to your throat, scraping down the soft skin there and following the trail of his fingers as they came down to twist one nipple hard enough make you hiss. You felt the pleasure begin to swell in your core and found yourself shuddering as he pulled away to blow cold air on your hot, hard peaks, while moving two fingers down to push your panties aside. He gazed down at your uncovered pussy and hummed.

“Oh kitten, such a wet, sticky pussy for me. Does she want to be touched?”

You nodded mutely, your breath coming in rapid pants as his mouth made its way down your front, the rough line of hair above his top lip scratching deliciously as he kissed over his belly, distracting you for just a second from the sensation of his broad fingers as they circled your cunt again and again. The pleasure tightened in your stomach, a rubber band that seemed to need only the slightest flick before it would snap.

“Inside. Please.”

You felt him smirk against your stomach as he moved just the pads of two fingers inside you, allowing them to dance around the sensitive skin just inside your opening. It was almost enough. Shamefully just the touch of his fingers upon you, of his mouth against you was almost enough. But still, you needed more.

“Rooster deeper, I need it.”

And with that he answered, plunging two fingers deep inside you and curling them until he elicited a loud whine from you as your hips rose off the bed. His fingers were merciless, crashing against the most sensitive spot within you over and over again at you whimpered, hot wetness flooding into you as your pleasure began to overtake you.

But just as you reached the edge he pulled back, retreating until his fingertips were the only contact you had, and fixing those eyes sternly on you.

“If you’re gonna come on my fingers, you can call me by my name.” He smirked. “And loud enough that they know how good I’m doing it kitten.”

Your breath shook as you raised your voice, pulse racing against your chest. “Bradley. Now. Please.”

This time there was no pause, no question. Only his fingers so deep in you that you whined out loud, and the white-hot explosion of your pleasure that had you seeing stars behind your eyelids as you gushed all over his palm.

“Fuck y/n, I’d forgotten how hot that was,” he murmured, continuing to finger fuck you through the tail end of your orgasm before moving his mouth between your legs to suck the juices from your pussy lips while you whimpered. When he was good and done he crawled back up the bed and held two wet fingers to your lips.

“Gonna clean yourself up kitten?” You took his fingers greedily into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and sucking them right down to the back of your throat as you began to bob your head back and forth. Laughing breathily, Bradley pulled them back and positioned himself between your legs. “Don’t get me too excited, I need another round on this pussy before you start using that dirty mouth on me.”

As he slid inside you, there was a thud against the wall next door, followed by another and a third, picking up a slow, steady rhythm. You looked to Bradley’s face, firmly expecting him to be angry, but instead his tongue was tracing along his upper lip as he leaned down and pushed himself into your now gaping wet hole slowly.

Through the wall, you heard a female voice clearly demand, “Fuck. Me.” It was followed by loud thuds, faster and firmer than they had been before, and you couldn’t help but notice that Bradley’s thrusts had sped up too… You gripped his arms and pushed him back slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you fucking me in time with them?”

Next door, you heard a scream, and felt him twitch within you as you chuckled lowly.

“Oh Rooster,” you murmured. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you? Hearing them fuck right through the wall from us?” You moved your hips gently and felt him shudder.

He scoffed lightly, but as the hum of voices sounded again, you saw his cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. “Who knew you liked to listen so much, huh?” You flicked a tongue over his ear. “Or is it just because it’s them? Do you like listening to them….” You circled your hips and he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Wanting to know if you’re better in bed? Is that it?”

The grin that broke across Bradley’s face was slow but broad, lifting the corner of his eyes and making the long scar on his cheek dance.

“Oh I was right!” You murmured. “You want to know you’re a better lay than Hangman.” You pressed your hands against his chest and rolled as he allowed you to pin you in place.

“Maybe you do need to hook up with some navy slut huh? Someone who can let you compare?”

He watched you hungrily as you began to crawl down his body, pressing your soaking heat against him in to leave a wet trail until you were face-to-face with his thick, dripping length. You kept your eyes on his as you gripped his cock, biting your lower lip while you stroked once, twice, three times.

“I can’t compare,” you told him, licking your lips. “But I can show you just how good you make me feel; make you feel that good too.”

Rooster threw back his head and groaned loudly, spurring you on to sink your lips over his shaft.

You took him all the way in until his head hit the back of your throat and you swallowed, all too conscious of the extra pressure it would put on his already twitching member. With a stretch and a poor gag reflex you could fit the whole of him down your throat, leaving your nose nestled against the trimmed patch of dark curls at his base, but God the man was thick, thick enough that your jaw was already aching from stretching to fit around him, aching all the more as you began to bob your head back and forth while tonguing at the underside of his dick in your mouth.

He shook his head as he looked down at you, a stream of whispered obscenities springing from his lips while you gazed up at him, doe eyed even as you continued to swallow his cock, saliva running down your chin.

After a couple of minutes,you could take it no longer and pulled back, taking his dick in your hand as you pulled it from your lips, licking up the trail of saliva and pre-cum that stretched between you.

“Like it honey? When I swallow your dick like that does it distract you from listening to them fuck?”

Bradley’s eyes narrowed and he pulled your hair into a messy ponytail, before moving your head back towards his dick. Before getting back to the blow job though you grinned.

“Or maybe you just want my mouth busy enough that I won’t talk over them? Busy enough that you can hear them fucking nice and clear while I get you off?”

It was all he needed, gripping his cock and pushing your mouth onto it as you whined.

“Suck me,” he whispered, his voice picking up volume as you continued. “That’s it, you dirty, dirty girl.”

In a matter of seconds his eyes were practically rolling back in his head. Taking that as a good sign, you doubled your efforts, only to feel a hand grip your hair and pull you upwards.

“Too much,” he muttered, jaw set and eyes dark. “Need to be in you.”

Climbing to his knees, Bradley pulled you up with him and crushed his lips against his at the same moment he brought the knuckle of one finger to your clit. As you began to whimper, you heard the thuds resume through the wall and saw him pull away - eyebrow raised.

“Want to listen honey?” You asked.

“Fuck no,” he rasped, pushing you back against the offending wall and shifting against you, one knee remaining on the bed and the other bent for leverage. “Want them to hear.”

He dragged your legs around his waist and pulled one of your arms around his neck, pushing himself into you at the perfect angle while you clung on desperately and tried to move against him.

“Can’t move.” You murmured.

But he only grinned that slow, cocky smile and returned his rough knuckle to your clit as he fucked you in ways you’d never known you needed.

Your head knocked against the wall at the same pace as the bed, a quick pain each time. But the pleasure everywhere else in your body was too much to even think of complaining. You were entirely at his mercy, clinging on for balance with three limbs while the fourth rubbed frantically at your clit in a desperate bid for release, control, more pleasure - you had no idea. All you knew was him, fucking into you with slow, hard thrusts that made your insides quiver and clench around him. You flicked out your tongue to lick his lips and he grinned again, opening his mouth to allow your tongue access, but barely kissing you back - only panting your name as he fucked deeper and deeper into you.

You felt his hips stutter and he slowed for a moment. “Want me to pull out or are we good?”

“Fuck no, we’re good.”

With that he began to kiss you - a fiery mess of tongue as those dark brown eyes fixed on yours and you felt him fuck faster and faster into you, the bed springs screaming for relief but doing little to drown out the filthy noises from your pussy.

“Rooster,” you panted, the tension within you unbearable.

“Say it louder kitten, want them to hear you.”

It was too much, way good much. And you found yourself calling his name like a prayer as you fell apart, heard his moan in reply as he twitched and spurted within you, then groaned softly as his spent, sweaty body fell against yours.

You barely registered the thuds from the room next door. And by the time you heard a distinctly male shout followed by a scream, Bradley was already kissing you again, lifting you into his arms to lay you down on the bed and mate his mouth to yours as you both came back to Earth.

“Well,” you murmured a few minutes later, your head pillowed sleepily on his chest. “Guess the whole base will think I’m just another navy slut now, huh?”

He stroked a hand down your hair and chuckled softly. “I can’t promise they won’t know exactly what we were doing in here. But that doesn’t mean they’ll think you’re a navy slut.”

You lifted your head and raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh come on, what else will they think? I bet you’ve brought stacks of girls in here over the years.”

Bradley held up his free hand, blushing slightly as I spoke. “You would be the first. Until you showed up wearing that damned shirt I was planning a nice romantic day - introduce you to everyone, maybe even introduce you as my girlfriend.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh is that right?”

He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, blushing like a schoolboy. “Would it have been ok if it was?”

With a cheeky grin you snuggled back down into his chest. “How can I say no to the best lay in Top Gun?”

#top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #rooster x reader #rooster smut #rooster x y/n #rooster x f!reader #bradley bradshaw

[livesincerely]

hungry like the wolf

Also on Ao3. Rated E

00000

“So,” Jack starts, once they’ve both gotten their drinks, drumming his fingers against the bar top.

The absolutely gorgeous man sitting on the stool next to him swirls his vodka cranberry around in its glass, then takes a sip, vividly blue eyes peering at him from over the rim.

“So,” he agrees. “I guess there’s no point in beating around the bush. Are you…” he searches for the right word, something sheepish—chagrined, almost—tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Interested? No hard feelings if you aren’t, I know this wasn’t your idea—“

He shakes his head, then runs a weary hand over his forehead, further ruffling an already tousled head of curls.

“Just tell Sarah it didn’t work out. Feel free to blame me if you need to, she already thinks I’m hopeless so she’ll believe it if you say I ran you off. I’ll pay for your beer, give you some cash for a cab home—“

“Hang on a sec,” Jack interrupts before he can be politely hustled out the door. “What makes you think ‘m not interested?”

That seems to draw him up short. “Are you?”

“I could be,” Jack says, and he’s proud of himself for how nonchalant he manages to sound. “I’m mostly just kinda confused, Sarah didn’t exactly go int’a much detail. Maybe you can fill me in on the rest and we can go from there? You’re a succubus?”

“Sarah’s a succubus,” he corrects, relaxing back into his seat. “I’m an incubus—well, half, anyway—but it’s basically the same thing. And it’s honestly not that big a deal, Sarah just thinks that now that she and Katherine are engaged she needs to meddle in my love life too. My name’s David, by the way,” he tacks on as an afterthought, “in case she forgot to mention.”

“It did come up, funnily enough,” Jack replies with a grin. “It’s good ta meet ya, Dave. I’m Jack Kelly.”

“Jack Kelly,” Davey repeats slowly, as if testing the shape of the name in his mouth. “And what, exactly, did my sister have to bribe you with to convince you to come here tonight, Jack Kelly?”

“Well, don’t say it like that,” Jack laughs, leaning closer. “It ain’t like she had’ta twist my arm. All she told me was that she had a brother that was coming off a break up and hadn’t eaten in a while, and maybe would I be willing ta meet up with him, see if we’d hit it off.”

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Davey huffs, exasperated. “I told Sarah that Tony and I weren’t— I had an arrangement with a good friend of mine, we’ve known each other for years and we had a system in place. But then he went and fell in love with a Selkie,” —Davey rolls his eyes but his mouth curls into a smile, soft and small and fond— “and left me high and dry. And I guess getting back into the dating pool just seemed like a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

Jack pauses.

“…Are you interested in any of this?” he asks carefully. “‘Cause I get it, going along with something ‘cause your sibling strong-armed you into it, so feel free ta tell me ta fuck off, I won’t be offended—“

“No,” Davey blurts, reaching out to grab Jack’s forearm to stop him from rising. “No, that’s not— I’m not— I’m not, not interested, it’s just —“

His gaze drops for a moment, shoulders slumping as he lets out a sigh.

“Dating’s hard,” he quietly admits. “Especially for me, I tend to have the absolute worst luck with partners. If they’re not weird about the incubus thing then they turn out to be complete assholes. So, I usually don’t even bother.”

“But,” Jack starts, confused for multiple reasons, not the least of which is the fact that someone who looks—and Christ, smells—like David Jacobs does should easily have his pick of partners. “Don’t’cha need’ta eat? I mean, how does that work if you don’t—“

“I can eat regular food,” Davey clarifies. “I’m not, like, starving or anything, I get by just fine.” He tilts his head, considering. “I guess the best way to describe it is that it isn’t as filling, isn’t as satisfying, as actual sex.”

Jack’s glad that Davey’s the one to say it first—sex. Something about putting it to words, admitting plainly, what they’re both here for, feels like a point of no return.

He takes another drink of his beer to ease a suddenly parched throat, a hot prickle of desire racing down his spine. He wonders if Davey can feel it too: the hum of connection that starts to spark in air, the vast chasm of possibility that seems to have opened up beneath them. As if hearing Jack’s thoughts, Davey pauses—there’s the slightest hesitation, those blue eyes flashing, as if he can sense sexual attraction like a bloodhound scenting the air—but he continues without comment.

“It’s not even about having sex, not really,” Davey explains. “It’s about the energy of it, being a conduit of that energy, whatever form that might take. Just being around sex, facilitating it, manipulating it, is enough for some. Lots of incubi work as sort-of professional wingmen, or as consultants on porn sets or sex shops—they can be close enough to eat without having to actually engage in any… activities themselves, if they don’t want to.”

Davey taps his fingers against the side of his glass, rolls his shoulders back, then says, “So, don’t feel obligated, is what I’m trying to say. I only want to do this if we’re both interested, and for the right reasons.”

“I promise ya, the last thing I’m feelin’ is obligated,” Jack drawls. “Jus’ as long as we’re both on the same page.”

But Davey still looks uncertain.

“And you’re okay with the whole…” He makes a vague hand-wavy motion over himself. “I’m told my aura can be a touch… overwhelming, once it starts to take effect.”

“‘M not too worried,” Jack says with a shrug. “Werewolves are immune to almost everything—lycanthropy doesn’t exactly play well with other types of magic. Mother Moon tends to be pretty possessive of her children, I guess.”

“Sounds handy,” Davey says.

“‘S got its uses,” Jack agrees. “So you don’t gotta worry ‘bout enchantin’ me or nothin’.” He offers up his most charming smile. “At least, not any more than you already have.

A laugh bubbles off of Davey’s lips. His entire demeanor seems to brighten several clicks, like drawing back a curtain to let in the sun.

“That was smooth!” he accuses, sounding utterly delighted about it.

“I try,” Jack says, just as captivated, grinning right back. “Hopefully, I’m doin’ somethin’ right. You strike me as the kinda guy that’s pretty damn hard’ta impress.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re already head and shoulders above most of my past failures,” Davey says.

“You’re joking,” Jack says, disbelieving. “Been seein’ some real gems, have ya, cariño?”

“If only,” Davey scoffs. “You should’ve seen the last guy, he couldn’t even—“

Davey stops. Then Davey blushes, a flush of pink warming his face.

“Oh, there’s definitely a story there,” Jack says, drinking him in. He feels a little intoxicated, and not from the alcohol. “Spill, Jacobs.”

“There’s not much to say,” Davey lies—so terribly that it’s obvious even without the tell-tale skip in his heartbeat. “The fact that you’re not groping me under the table or visibly drooling is already an excellent sign. If we actually make it to a bed without incident I’ll be thrilled. And even then, most of them usually can’t manage to… aren’t able to…”

He trails off, awkward, and all at once the heart of the problem becomes obvious.

“Oh,” Jack realizes. “They can’t keep up with you.”

Davey’s blush deepens, which is only spurs Jack on.

“Of course they can’t,” Jack continues, shaking his head. “Eres guapísimo—it’s a miracle their damn brains didn’t melt out their ears.”

“It’s not funny, Davey protests, but it’s a halfhearted effort at best. “The last guy I tried to hookup with came in his pants in the back of an Uber—we didn’t even make it four blocks! I wasn’t even touching him. Then he didn’t understand why I was absolutely uninterested in doing anything except going home, alone. And then,” Davey leans closer, starting to gesture with his hands as talks, “he tracked me down on venmo a few days later and tried to stick me with his dry cleaning bill!”

Jack can’t help it: he barks out a laugh. “He didn’t!”

“Yes he fucking did!” Davey insists. “And, honestly, I’m not sure if that even cracks the top ten of ‘David Jacobs’ Tragic Attempts at Romance’—“

“There’s worse?” Jack asks. “Christ, sweetheart, I’m startin’ ta feel like I should be properly wining and dining ya, help make up for some of the assholes.”

“You won’t be making up for anything if you don’t stop laughing at me,” Davey grumbles, but he’s not truly annoyed—there’s a playful spark behind his eyes, anticipation written into every line of his body. “Besides, who’s to say you won’t be more of the same?”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Jack says, confident.

“Sounds like someone’s sure of themselves,” Davey muses, arching a brow.

“Sounds ta me like the bar ain’t that high,” Jack counters with a cheeky grin. “Don’t be an inconsiderate dickhead and don’t tap out pathetically early—shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“And you think you can handle it?”

“If there’s one thing a werewolf’s got in spades,” Jack purrs. “It’s stamina.”

Davey’s eyes go deliciously dark.

“You’re not cute,” he informs Jack pertly, and the challenge in his voice probably isn’t meant to be as enticing as it is. Probably.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack says, and he lets his fangs drop as he leans forward, running his tongue over the razor sharp canines that peek out from underneath his smirk. “I’m fucking adorable.”

He doesn’t miss the way Davey’s eyes drop to his mouth, the way his throat bobs around a swallow. Jack just barely resists the urge to preen under his attention.

Without lifting his gaze, Davey says, in a voice that’s gone whiskey-smooth, “Shall we head out then?”

“Don’t’cha wanna finish your drink first?” Jack teases. “An’ I still got half a beer left.”

In answer, Davey tips his head back and downs the rest of his drink in one go, then he reaches over and plucks Jack’s beer out of his now slack grip and tosses that back too.

The empty glass lands against the bar top with a solid thunk but it’s barely a blip on Jack’s radar. Because Davey cups a hand around Jack’s jaw and draws him into a long, searing kiss. He tastes of hops and wolfsbane, cranberry and vodka, and something that must be uniquely Davey—warm and smokey and with a hint of bite.

Davey pulls away just enough for Jack to see the deep blue of his eyes, the thick canopy of his lashes. “And now?”

It takes Jack a second to find his voice, the keys in the ignition but the engine refusing to turn over. He rasps, “After you.”

00000

Davey’s apartment ends up being about ten minutes away, but god it feels like an eternity. They walk through the bustling sidewalks, street lamps and stars lighting their way, their hands not-quite brushing, their eyes not-quite meeting.

When they reach their destination, Davey works the deadbolt open, ushering him inside with a knowing smirk. Jack lets him hang up his jacket and keys, watches him nudge the door shut with his hip, then pins him up against it and slots their mouths together for another heated kiss.

Davey pulls him in immediately, his hands grabbing at Jack’s collar, tugging him closer, the press of his mouth sweet and soft. Jack sighs into him, lifting his chin for a better angle, hands fumbling for the hem of Davey’s sweater, running calloused fingertips over the small of his back, the curve of his waist.

“Wait, wait,” Davey pants against his mouth. He twists out of Jack’s embrace, then darts around the corner into what must be the kitchen. Befuddled and horny, Jack lumbers after him.

He finds him rummaging around in his fridge.

“Do you have a preference for Gatorade?” Davey asks. “I’ve got red and purple.”

“What?” Jack says, stupidly. “Uh, red, I guess.”

Davey hums in response. Under his breath he mutters to himself, “I’ll grab two, just to be safe.”

He nudges the refrigerator door closed with his hip, then turns and opens a cabinet. He pulls out a box of granola bars and grabs a handful.

“Dave, what are you doing?” Jack finally asks.

“Getting supplies,” Davey says, as though this should be obvious. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Jack says, bemused, stepping closer. “‘M made of pretty stern stuff.”

“Oh, so lycanthropy protects you from low blood sugar, now, does it?” Davey asks, pinning him with a spectacularly bitchy look. God, Jack’s already so fucking stupid for this man, it’s embarrassing. “Keeps your electrolytes properly balanced? Wow, that must be one hell of a party trick—“

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Jack says, curling himself around Davey’s back, letting his hands settle low over his hips. “You’re the expert, I’ll let you handle it.”

“Did you already have dinner?” Davey wonders. “I should’ve asked earlier, while we were still at the bar… Do you want something to eat? I can get you something—“

“What I really want is to get back’ta kissing you,” Jack murmurs, pressing his lips to the hollow behind Davey’s ear; Davey goes gratifyingly still in his arms, his pulse fluttering delicately beneath his skin. “So, if I promise to let you know the moment I get thirsty and have a big breakfast in the mornin’, can we please move you and your Gatorade somewhere more comfortable?”

“…and the granola bars,” Davey bargains.

“And the granola bars,” Jack easily concedes. “I’ll even eat one right now if it’ll make you feel better.”

Davey chews at his lip, hesitating. “Would you?” he implores softly.

Jack’s never choked down a granola bar so fast in his life.

Reluctantly reassured, Davey allows himself to be drawn into another kiss—gentle, at first, but it quickly becomes filthy—all tongues and teeth, gasps and sighs, moans and groans. They’re tangled together: Jack’s hands threaded in Davey’s hair, Davey’s thigh pressed hot and hard between his legs, the smoking embers of desire sparking into flame.

“Bedroom?” Jack manages to tear himself away long enough to ask.

“Bedroom,” Davey agrees, and long, elegant fingers curl around Jack’s wrist, dragging him down the hallway.

Jack barely gets a chance to take in the bed before Davey’s pushing him down onto it, lifting himself up and straddling him in a single fluid move. Jack’s hands land on his waist, then slip down to cup his ass, and there’s something heady in the air, linen and woodsmoke twinning together, like lazy winter nights spent in front of the fireplace, wrapped snugly in a blanket, toasty and warm and wonderous.

“Christ,” Jack growls, almost helplessly, against the hollow of his throat, not really meaning to be heard. “How do you smell so fucking good?”

“Sex demon, remember?” Davey says, laughing, rocking their hips together in a rough, dirty grind. “Guess it just comes with the territory.”

“I’ll show you territory,” he mutters, leaning in with intent. He tracks a path along Davey’s neck with his lips, then follows it back with his teeth, working a bruise into the column of his throat. Davey squirms under his attention, tipping his head back to give him better access, and that tiniest hint of surrender drives some bestial part of Jack’s subconscious absolutely wild, pressing in again and again and again.

He pulls away to admire his handiwork.

“Possessive,” Davey notes, his eyes dark with a special sort of relish.

“Oh, you’d know all about possession, wouldn’t you sweetheart,” Jack banters back, brushing one final kiss to the delicate skin.

Davey goes very still, and for one horrible moment Jack worries he’s overstepped. But then he smiles, his scent spiking—sweet and smoky and downright delectable—like the most mouthwatering caramel and somehow just as thick.

“Oh, darling,” Davey says, and Jack can feel his hand draped over the nape of his neck, fingertips just barely brushing against the skin, sending electric tingles down his spine. “I might just have to keep you.”

“You’re killin’ me, Jacobs,” Jack’s groans, his heart pounding double-time in his chest. “Clothes. Off. Fuck.”

They separate just enough to strip: Jack pulls his shirt over his head, and when Davey doesn’t manage to tear out of his sweater—and the button up he’s wearing underneath, fucking hell—within the point five seconds Jack can stand to keep his hands to himself, he starts helping with those too, eager to uncover every square inch of skin.

“How do you want to do this?” Davey asks as he kicks out his pants. Jack barely hears him, he’s too busy staring: his ass and thighs could’ve been carved from marble, works of the finest art. “Top or bottom?”

“I’m good either way,” Jack answers, fighting with his own belt. “This is your party, Dave. Dealer's choice.”

“I think I want you inside me,” Davey decides, giving him a long once over. “At least for this round.”

“Fine by me,” Jack rasps. “Here, I think I gotta condom in my wallet—“

Davey stops him with a hand on his arm. “I… would you be totally against going without?” he asks. “I’m clean and I can’t catch anything, regardless… I assume you can’t either?”

“Advanced healing,” Jack confirms thickly, the words feeling clumsy in his mouth. “I’m game if you are. But, fair warning, without a condom it’s gonna be… messy.”

“Messy sounds perfect,” Davey says lowly, and there’s a flash of pink as he runs his tongue over teeth.

Jack’s dick throbs, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Fuckin’—“ Jack bites off the rest, grabbing Davey by the hips and wrestling him down onto the bed. He can barely think through wanting him, settling in the vee of those perfect thighs, the press of bare skin against bare skin utterly exhilarating. “Drivin’ me crazy—“

“God, your hands,” Davey groans, his eyes half-lidded and heavy. “Please, please touch me.”

Jack winds a hand down between them. He’s just barely cupped his fingers under Davey’s balls—gentle, tentative—when Davey gives a full-body jolt, rearing up so suddenly that they almost headbutt each other.

“Whoa,” Jack yelps. “You okay?“

Davey’s mouth works soundlessly for a few moments. He’s flushed so deeply that it bleeds down his throat and chest, painting him in a wash of rosy pink.

“Scratch that,” he finally gasps out. “Get inside me.”

“Now?”

“Now,” Davey insists, expression wild and a touch desperate. “Just come here— oh, oh fuck—“

Jack scrambles to line himself up at Davey entrance. Confused, maybe a little panicked, he says, “But I didn’t prep ya—“

“I’m fine, it’s fine, just, please—“

And there’s no resistance as Jack slides home, Davey’s body accepting him easily, eagerly, hot and tight and gloriously good.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack murmurs, watching Davey’s wide-eyed expression, a little overwhelmed at the sight he makes splayed out against the sheets, writhing in what can only be described as ecstasy as Jack bottoms out. “I knew ya needed it but I didn’t realize how badly.”

“Sorry,” Davey says. His lips are red and kiss-swollen, his hands fisted into the bedding on either side of him, but he still manages to say, his chest heaving, “I didn’t mean to lose it like that. I guess it really has been a while…” He blinks hard. “Did I freak you out too badly or are you okay to keep going?”

“Ain’t like I'm gonna take off, is it?” Jack muses. He pulls out just a bit, then carefully thrusts back in, sinking even further into that exquisite heat. “I’m literally balls deep inside you.”

“Consent is a continuous contract,” Davey lectures, because it tracks that Davey’s the type that can host a whole goddamn seminar while Jack is trying to fuck him stupid. But not even he can hide how his words are a breathless rasp, that his voice threaded with aching, blatant desire. “It can be retracted or reassessed at any time—“

He breaks off with another gasp as Jack rolls his hips forward, nice and slow, then does it again, starting up a steady rhythm.

“Quierdo, unless you say otherwise, they’d have to drag me off of you by my hair,” Jack vows, not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating or not. There’s just something about Davey—the snark and sweetness and sin of him—that draws him in, beckons him closer, makes something deep inside of him pant and tremble and howl. “Is this good for you? Less or more or…?”

“More,” is Davey’s immediate response. “More, oh god, please more—“

Jack leans in and kisses him then, unable to resist, and Davey arches into him like he’s starving for it—Christ, he probably is.

He lingers there for a long moment, their mouths moving together, fierce and frenzied. Then he ducks his head and presses his nose into the space just under Davey’s jaw because he has to, has to lick and nibble and mark all that delicious, delectable skin, and Davey makes a noise that’s pure want. He tilts his head, baring his already bruised throat for another round of marks, and Jack can’t help the rumbling growl that carves its way out of his chest, deep and possessive.

“Oh, fuck,” Davey moans, his heels digging sharper into the small of Jack’s back.

He feels untethered, unmoored, waves of pleasure battering at the hull of the ship, threatening to upend him at any moment. His hips snap forward, almost of their own accord, and he finds a solid, steady pace that’s just this side of brutal. There’s the slap of skin against skin, gasps and groans, the smell of burnt-sugar-sweetness growing heavy in the air, so strong that Jack can almost taste it.

Davey gives as good as he gets: rocking into each of Jack’s thrusts, tugging at Jack’s hair until he moans, his gaze growing darker and darker until his eyes are almost black, and god he’s so fucking gorgeous. The molten vice of him is like nothing else: searing, sizzling heat, hot enough to smolder and scorch, and impossibly, exquisitely tight. Fuck. Fuck.

Davey lets out a lovely little whimper, grabbing for Jack’s shoulders, and Jack realizes a moment too late that his thrusts are starting to catch against Davey’s hole, the base of his cock beginning to swell.

“Ah, shit,” Jack groans, recognizing that familiar tightening deep in his gut. “Dave, I think I’m gonna— My knot, it’s— Should I—?”

“Your… knot?”

“Werewolf thing,” Jack grunts. “Want me to pull out?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Davey orders, locking his ankles over the small of Jack’s back. “Give it to me.”

Jack couldn’t resist, even if he wanted to. His hips stutter, pistoning strokes turning to rough, dirty grinds. He presses in one last time, nice and deep, then his vision goes white as his orgasm rushes over him.

“Oh,” Davey mewls as Jack’s knot locks inside of him, his mouth slack with bliss. “Oh, that’s— Oh, oh, oh, oh—!”

He comes with a silent scream, the hot clench of his body squeezing around him as he trembles and pants, and Jack can only hold him—hold onto him—nuzzling at his sweaty temple as he rides it out.

“Okay?” Is the first thing Davey mumbles when he finds his voice again.

“Pretty sure I should be askin’ you that,” Jack murmurs fondly. “But ‘m fine.”

“Good.”

Davey shifts slightly, testing the pull of their bodies; Jack hisses, grabbing for his thigh to keep him close as another burst of pleasure spills out of him.

“Sensitive,” Jack rasps, and the sudden worry in Davey’s expression clears, replaced by understanding.

“Oh,” Davey says, biting his lip. His thigh flexes in Jack’s grip. “Do you think we can flip over or is that asking too much?”

With a bit of maneuvering, Jack manages, cradling him close to his chest as they bask in the afterglow.

“How long until it goes down?” Davey asks after a few long moments of breathing and cuddling and laying together, tracing patterns over Jack’s bicep with his fingertips.

“Uh, fifteen minutes on the short side,” Jack says. “Maybe half an hour on the long.”

“Hmm,” Davey acknowledges. He brushes his hair out of his face and shifts back on his haunches, settling down so that he’s properly straddling Jack’s lap. Jack cracks an eye open, confused, but before he can ask, Davey says, “Tell me if this is too much,” and clenches his ass around Jack’s knot.

Jack’s eyes fly open, a harsh, strangled sound clawing its way out of his throat.

Davey’s watching him intently—smug and expectant and far too pleased with himself—a king perched on his throne.

“Oh, darling,” Davey purrs, working his hips in a tight, devastating circle. “Surely you didn’t think I was anywhere close to finished with you?”

Jack’s hands shoot to Davey’s hips: not to keep him still so much as to give himself something to hold on to, his grip bruisingly tight.

But Davey only seems to delight in this reaction. He hums, low in the back of his throat, his scent smoldering with fresh arousal, his eyes shining with self-satisfaction.

“Too much?” Davey asks again, and Jack can’t find the words to answer with. His entire body is alight, his nerves strung out and sparking, dancing right on edge between terrible pleasure and delicious pain. Then Davey rocks up, squeezing and tugging at Jack’s swollen knot.

“Dave,” he gasps, ragged, the word torn from him.

He can barely keep his eyes open, can barely breathe through how thoroughly Davey’s destroying him, but it’s worth it just to take it all in. Because Davey is an absolute vision above him, all lean, sensual strength, his neck and chest flushed with effort, taking his pleasure and dragging Jack right along with him.

“Jack,” Davey says, more firmly this time, and Jack realizes that his lashes have fluttered shut, his eyes rolling back in his head. “I need an answer.”

“I— It’s—“ That’s as far as Jack gets. Everything seems hazy, unfocused, his vision flickering at the edges, pulse after pulse of heat shuddering through him. He manages a nod.

“Breathe,” Davey soothes, and his hands settle over where Jack’s still holding onto his hips for dear life, thumbs stroking gently over his knuckles. “I’ve got you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack groans.

He tangles their fingers together for a moment, squeezing, and the contact is grounding and reassuring all at once. He rubs his hands down Davey’s thighs, then somehow finds the coordination to get a hand around Davey dick. He rubs his thumb over the red, leaking tip and Davey’s rhythm stutters, his head falling back as he arcs into the sensation.

“Ah,” he moans, hips twitching as Jack pumps his hand down the shaft, jerking his cock hard and fast in his fist, because he needs to make him fall off that edge, needs it like he needs the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins.

“Jack,” he chants. “Jack, Jack, Jackie, oh god, just like that, don’t stop, don’t—“

His voice breaks, the clench of his ass becomes fucking blistering, just hot and tight and perfect and—

Static. Jack’s not sure if he’s coming again or if he never stopped in the first place, pain and pleasure twisting together in terrible, glorious harmony. When it finally ends, when he finally floats down from that impossible high, he comes back to himself in pieces, wrung out and winded, utterly exhausted.

“…I see what’cha meant about the Gatorade,” he eventually mutters, feeling like he’s run a marathon.

Davey huffs out a laugh. He looks about as wrecked as Jack feels, but there’s something different about him now—a fresh glow to his skin, stress and tension smoothed away—as if someone’s distilled good health down to the essentials and injected it right into his veins.

“You look good,” Jack says, brushing a stray curl out of Davey’s eyes. “Feelin’ better?”

”Much better,” Davey assures him.

“Sweet,” Jack mumbles, nuzzling into the curve of his neck. “Go team.”

Another laugh from Davey, but gentler somehow. He presses a kiss to the top of Jack’s head and murmurs, “I really am going to have to keep you.”

“Not if I keep you first,” Jack replies, lacing their hands together. It feels like the best kind of promise.

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*final cut #hungry like the wolf #it’s here!!!!!! #am I posting my Halloween fic two days after Thanksgiving? #perhaps #don’t judge me #hope you enjoy it!

[fatuismooches]

My previous asks about biting is just because i have cute aggression and your works are so cute (usually, one time i wanted to test out how dramatic my mascara was so i read some of your angst, cried) but now that i really think about it? my number one competitor is Il Dottore himself

It's my personal headcanon dottore has really bad cute aggression, sure it's mainly under control now because he's been alive for fuckinf Centuries (for all childhood friends works where the reader is male would it count as old man yaoi- *gets shot*) but with his lover? absolutely out of control

Maybe they're cuddling and his lover's hand gets close to his mouth? eated, chomped

childhood friends reader who has scars on their arms because of how hard dottore has bitten them

it gets so bad that the reader has to give him a taste of his own medicine, he bit them a few minutes ago and now he has his hand by their mouth? EATED (he gets so confused and then Realizes, unbeknownst to you, you started an all out war.)

Make sure to wear turtlenecks during the chomping war because if you walk past him wearing like, a tee-shirt he'll just move the collar of the shirt (or even stretch it, bastard) just to bite your shoulder and then act like nothing happened

after about the first week, you both look like you were mauled by a small cat.

Eventually, a truce is made, so it's not as bad, but you two still bite each other like feral cats.. It's just more provoked rather than "i have to get them back IMMEDIATELY"

So there's not as many bite marks everywhere, mainly on each other's arm and hands now because, what else are you supposed to do if your lover's hand is by your mouth? kiss it? fucking casual. Bite his cheek and watch him go absolutely insane though

some other harbingers who i think have cute aggression but not as bad

The second place is pantalone, he isnt bitey, but he will grab, squish, and tug at your cheeks aggressively if you say or do something cute whole cooing about the cuteness of what you just did

columbina will just, hug and squeeze you really REALLY tight if you do something cute, its hard to breathe but thats ok

the last and (funnily enough) least aggressive when it comes it cuteness, is childe, he'll hug you tightly (not as tight as columbina) and squish your cheeks, but only for a few seconds (unlike pantalone, who will literally make your face numb) he is lime a healthy mix of both of those two, he will get bitey however. - 🎈 pspsp smooches cmere i promise i wont bite you (lying)

🎈 ANON?? HELP IM SORRY FOR MESSING UP YOUR MASCARA I DIDNT MEAN TO 😭 (or did I?) But omg, I honestly didn't know what cute aggression was until now, thank you for informing me of this AND I'M GONNA BE STEALING YOUR HCS BC THATS TOO CUTE 🤲❤️❤️😭

I'm just. EXPLODING 💥 Bro doesn't know how to control his biting strength too so he ends up drawing blood sometimes 😔 (But it's okay since it's Dottore) I bet people assume the scars you have are from something cool like battles but nope... you got BIT by a human, multiple times at that. The first time it happened you probably let out a little scream because he's literally nomming on you unprompted and... you've never met anyone who does that 😨 I wonder if he even has an explanation for it or he just... does it? He just wants to bite you and he will, you can't stop him😭🙏

I mean, you get used to the random bitings, but if there's one thing about you, is that you will put him in his place if need be! If Dottore thinks he can just go on ranting about his research after fatally biting you, he's wrong 😒 He starts waving his hands around in excitement and you know what. Bitten. Nom-nom. Congrats. This is one of the very few times Dottore's rendered speechless. (Worst mistake of your life.) You know how regular couples give each other good morning/night kisses? Well Zandik does something like that... he just bites you unprovoked instead. It's the absolute worst during the Akademiya because you're sweating so hard trying to cover all of your skin but also trying to avoid getting nipped on the neck by that irritating deadly scholar 🫠 He is so nonchalant about it too 😒 But you're not. As soon as you land a bite you're grinning so hard and he's just like 😐 Ehehe... pretending to kiss his cheek and then nibbling on it and giving it a lil bite... I'm evaporating... i love the little love bites <3

THE PANTALONE ONE IS SOOO TRUEEE AWWW 😭🥺🥺🥺 I see him as very touchy so omggg him squishing your cheeks is so cute 😭 You would just be talking and saying something unintentionally adorable to him and all of a sudden he's cupping and then squishing your cheeks all while going on about how cute his darling is, and your words are now getting all garbled up 😔 it's A NEED. (Then he'll kiss your cheeks so gently if you get pouty cuz he pulled too hard :(( <3)

100% agreed on Bina she is. A MONSTER. when it comes to those hugs, you may faint if you don't build up some resistance to it. You can try to do it back to her but for some reason, she isn't really affected by it even if you muster up all your strength, but she still adores the notion! And Childe... RAHHH THESE ARE SO GOOD!! It's funny for him to be the least aggressive but his co-workers are something else I guess 😭 We love a king who's so affectionate but also won't kill you with it 🤭 I imagine if you return it he would be so flattered...especially if you're strong enough to actually keep him from leaving your hug. Now that's the good stuff.

🎈 anon 😳 you can bite me if you want, I don't mind 😌🫶

#smooches talks #🎈 anon #i will proudly wear my bite marks 🔥 #his shark teeth are soooo freaking cute ahh #bro prolly bites harder than a rishboland tiger #the pantalone one really has me swooning i cant #dottore love notes <3 #pantalone love notes <3 #columbina love notes <3 #childe love notes <3